


A Little Wicked

by peachxi (peachi3)



Series: Invictus (A Little Wicked verse) [1]
Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Again sort of, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Battle, Blood and Violence, Demons, Eventual Smut, Fantasy, Fluff, Graphic Violence, How Do I Tag, I promise the sequel will give you a happy ending, Lee Taeyong-centric, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Knifeplay, Mild Painplay, Multi, OT7, POV Alternating, Polyamory, Romance, Royalty, The story was just too big to have as one fic, as in not really but I'm going to tag just in case, but everyone is together, mild bloodplay, sort of slow burn, tags will be updated regularly, this was supposed to be a short fic I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-19 16:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 134,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22313647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachi3/pseuds/peachxi
Summary: At night Taeyong dreams of fire and blood, of voices whispering his name and fingers ghosting over his skin; during the day he tries to survive the less-than-favourable cards that fate has dealt him.alternatively:A supposedly dead prince returns home, accompanied by an odd band of companions.[slowly being edited]
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongin | Kai, Byun Baekhyun/Lee Taemin, Byun Baekhyun/Lee Taeyong, Byun Baekhyun/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Lee Taemin, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Everyone/Everyone, Kim Jongin | Kai/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin, Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taeyong, Kim Jongin | Kai/Mark Lee (NCT), Kim Jongin | Kai/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Taemin/Lee Taeyong, Lee Taemin/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Lee Taeyong/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Mark Lee (NCT)/Lee Taemin, Mark Lee/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Mark Lee/Lee Taeyong, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Invictus (A Little Wicked verse) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606135
Comments: 264
Kudos: 583





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fic I've written in years, so I'm very, very rusty. I'm really bad at explaining things, but either way I hope people will be interested in this. I have the first three chapters already written, so I should be able to update regularly.
> 
> P.S, this is not betaed because I wrote it all in like an hour and a half and am instantly posting it. Never said I was smart. If you notice any typos, please do tell me! Feedback is welcome~
> 
> [So, coming back six months after I started writing this and LORD, the number of mistakes and typos-  
> I'm currently finishing off the sequel but I am slowly trying to work my way through editing this to make it much more readable and, uh, better in general lol]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong's life is shit, and he meets a familiar face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edited]

Taeyong'd been young when it had happened, the war— then again, some said the word ‘war’ was far too mild for what’d happened that night. It’d been a mindless slaughter. _A_ _massacre_. The streets had flowed with blood of his people and their bodies had piled so high that it’d taken months for the survivors to clear the aftermath. A whole kingdom overrun within the space of a night, the fighting over before it’d even really had a chance to begin; it’d taken everyone by surprise, even the royal family and their army. At the age of seven Taeyong had been utterly helpless, just one of many innocents caught up in the chaos, but still old enough to remember what'd happened. Sometimes Taeyong found that he wished he’d been younger so that he may have been spared all the gruesome memories that had kept him awake for years, but then again it was probable that he wouldn’t have survived if he’d been any younger. As it was, it was a miracle he’d made it, not just through the bloodbath that was that night but everything that’d followed.

Seeing your family and friends be cut down in front of you was something that you never quite forgot.

That night Taeyong had cried, his eyes red and swollen as he curled up in the corner of the apothecary his parents ran, sobbing into the one pillow he’d managed to salvage from the destruction and shivering from the cool air that crept through smashed windows. He'd cried for his mother and his baby sister who’d been cut down without hesitation, for his father who’d run out to join the other knights and never returned, for his friends — for Younghyun, the blacksmith’s boy who’d been fine one second and coughing blood the next, a spear in his chest; for Minhyung, one of the boys who was cared for by the maids and stayed in the castle. His best friend. Taeyong had wondered if his body was still laying out there somewhere, too.

The foreign soldiers had killed everyone who could pose a threat to their mission: the men, all those who opposed them, even most of the women who'd been old enough to kick up a fuss. A bustling city of thousands was culled without thought. Taeyong was just one of the countless orphans that'd been left after the ordeal, along with elderly citizens who’d survived and the rare few who’d managed to lay low and hide. The first week their focus had been entirely on putting out the fires that had still ravaged the city and finding what food and water they could whilst their new monarch settled into the castle.

There’d been whispers about the castle and how the carnage was even worse up there. People spoke about how everyone inside had been brutally slaughtered, even the children. The royal family tortured and disposed of, their heads on spikes on the turrets, barely visible in the distance as people went about trying to rebuild what was left of their lives. The adults were always too busy trying not to think about the bodies they were moving to notice him listening.

After all the death, sickness had followed; the air had been thick with it, the sounds of retching and crying all that could be heard for weeks as the decaying bodies spread diseases they'd never experienced. No aid came from their new king nor his men who’d stayed safely locked up in their castle, who’d thrown the bodies from there down into the streets for them to deal with instead. As quick as they could burn bodies, more would join the pile. They’d lost more people than they could count and Taeyong, too, had almost joined the pyre himself — for weeks he’d been taken with the sickness, pale and sweaty and coughing until blood had joined the bile that left him. Part of him had accepted it even then, that he was going to die, but it seemed that fate had other plans for him. One morning the fever broke and, though he’d been recovering for months, he _survived_.

It never really got better, it was just that humans had a habit of adapting to their surroundings. They overcame the death, the disease, and they . . . well, they did what they needed to in order to survive. They sewed their fields and tried to fatten up what animals remained, tried to get back to some sort of semblance of normality or whatever their new normal could possibly entail. Their future was just as bleak, though. Years of pain and suffering, of needless death and living under the rule of a tyrant king; years of heavy taxes and barely being able to survive through the harsh winters. By the age of fifteen Taeyong realised exactly what they were: livestock. They provided the food to the castle — the food they put their blood, sweat and tears into getting — and they lined his wallets whilst their people were the ones taken away to work in that accursed castle to make his life easier. It was _their_ people forced to learn to fight, to join his army, to fight wars with no just cause for the mere sake of expansion. They weren’t living, they were barely even surviving.

Taeyong was luckier than most, though, and he could admit that. He was resourceful, fast, able to steal things here and there like a coin from the knights’ pockets if he was smart enough and bided his time. His family home, the apothecary, _had_ been damaged in the battle, but he’d worked hard over the past fifteen years that he’d been alone and none of it had been for nothing — there was a roof over his head, a small amount of coin in his pockets, something to busy his time and a practice which was always in high demand. He’d known little when he was a child but years of being in this place meant that he’d had plenty of time to read, to learn, and whilst he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be as incredible a healer as his mother had been, he was an adept healer. All naturally, of course. Medicine. Skill. Not magic, if he even dared to say the word. It was incredibly rare and, whilst their former king hadn’t been like many who would condemn such a thing, their current one despised it. Then again, the bastard seemed to have an aversion to anything that could ever be seen as a threat to his rule. More than once he’d had knights knocking on his door, turning things over and trying to find something, like he’d ever be foolish enough to keep anything remotely incriminating here if he _did_ possess magic — not that he did. Taeyong was just . . . well, Taeyong. Plain and simple.

__

When Taeyong woke up he was sure he was dreaming. There was yelling and shouting outside, screams, the clang of metal on metal and . . . flesh. For a long moment he didn’t stir, instead burying his face down even further into his lumpy pillow, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks. Taeyong was used to such dreams after, he'd been haunted by them for most of his life, as well as other things — voices, whispering in the night, feline eyes, hands ghosting over his skin. He’d learnt to ignore them. The dark-haired male snuggled back in and tugged that threadbare blanket even further over himself, but he didn’t drift back off, and the noises stayed. He opened his eyes and squinted through the dark and, well, exactly that. It was dark. Unlike the other dreams, there were no flames burning outside. He was _awake_. Taeyong was up within a second, his heart already hammering like a rabbit's as he fumbled under his pillow for the meagre blade he owned. It was something small and duller than he would've liked but it was all he could afford and it was rather easy to hide. 

Was it another kingdom invading? Knights sent down from the castle to do away with them at last? He didn't dare a lantern, instead creeping out from the back room where he slept through the rows of tables to the front window and crouching down. He almost didn’t look. Taeyong could still hear all the chaos but his store was down a smaller side street, off the bigger main road through the city. All the lanterns in the street were still lit though by the moon he’d say it was more early morning, perhaps an hour or two before sunrise. Taeyong’s hand trembled as it tightened around the dagger but he didn’t let it go, his throat bobbing as he opened the door enough to peek outside.

_ "Stay inside, where it’s safe." _

Taeyong wasn’t a child anymore, he was nearing his twenty-third birthday - this wasn’t like last time. He wasn’t helpless. He could hear those desperate screams and he . . . he could _do_ something about it.

What could he do? All he had was his knife.

_ "You’ll get yourself killed." _

But he had to _try_.

Taeyong pulled on his cloak and threw his hood up over messy black hair, his hands shaking as he slipped out onto the street and let the door close behind him, the bell tinkling ever so softly. He was hyperaware of the fact that this was a terrible idea but hell, there was no turning back now, right? He passed one corner. Nothing. At the next, he saw people scrambling about, but as he turned the next he stumbled across— something. There was a man, perhaps just barely shorter than him, dressed in dark clothes and with what seemed to be a bow strapped to his back, though he seemed to be favouring one leg and brandishing a wicked-looking dagger. One of the soldiers he’d regularly seen in the marketplace was aiming heavy blows with his sword, blows the guy was just barely avoiding and, hell, he didn’t even know who this guy was or who he was supposed to be helping but Taeyong found himself making a very foolish decision.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size!” he bellowed, getting the soldier’s attention. That was it. His plan. Taeyong hadn’t quite had time to plan ahead after step one.

“What, like you, runt?”

Taeyong paled and stood frozen, rooted in place as the man advanced. All he could do was brandish his knife like a meek warning. His hands were still trembling and the soldier laughed, that cruel noise alone making him jump ever so slightly. The knife tumbled from his fingers and Taeyong was filled with a cold sense of dread that crept through all his limbs and made him panic. He was going to die. The soldier took another step forward, that blade already glistening with blood, and he . . . if you asked Taeyong _why_ he thrust his hands forward, he wouldn’t have any sort of logical answer for you. It was just . . . instinct. When he squeezed his eyes shut a buzz rushed through him that he couldn’t quite explain; it felt like home, like his mother’s embrace and his father ruffling his hair and playing in the streets as a kid. White exploded behind his eyelids and he heard a pained shout.

Brown hues snapped back open, confused by the blow that’d never landed, but instead he caught sight of the last few traces of light and the way the soldier stumbled backwards with an obviously injured shoulder like he’d been scorched. It'd all happened so quickly that Taeyong barely even had a chance to react, let alone to acknowledge what was going on, because the stranger must have noticed the lapse in defence — he leapt forward with his good foot and Taeyong’s eyes widened as the knight jolted, face pained, a wet squelching sound filling the air before he dropped like a sack of potatoes. The man was still standing behind where he’d been, panting and looking down at the dying body with a bloodied dagger in his grip. Was he going to kill him now, too?

The stranger’s hood came off to reveal a mess of short black hair, sharp cheekbones and eyes that were incredibly familiar even after all these years, eyes that flickered back over to him with a sort of confusion and awe. Taeyong . . . gods, he _knew_ that face — had grown up with it. Had mourned it as a child. “ _Minhyung_?” He breathed out, voice shaky, and, huh, Taeyong felt a little uneasy. The whispers were back, tickling at the back of his mind, and he didn’t really register that his eyes were rolling back until it was far too late. Taeyong couldn’t quite make out what those warbled words he heard were as he passed out but for a moment it felt like he was falling, and then . . . well, he was just weightless. Floating. Surrounded by that warmth that came to him in his dreams, the good ones, telling him to, _"rest"_.


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark thinks back to his past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edited]

It’d been so long that Mark couldn’t even quite remember what home felt like. Sometimes it felt like he didn’t even have one. By all means, he never even should’ve survived that night, but it was pure chance that as he was stumbling through the blood-stained halls, trying to find a way out, he’d come across the prince and his guard. He’d only ever met Prince Jongin a few times in passing and he’d certainly never shared a conversation with him. He was just a peasant, after all, an errand boy that’d been raised in the castle by some of the queen's maids, so there’d never been a reason for them to interact in any way, and even if they’d both been of the same social standing Jongin was a few years older so they probably wouldn’t have gotten along. Fate had a funny way of changing things. Mark had stared wide-eyed as a foreign soldier struck the guard down, thick blood splattering over the stone walls before the soldier then turned his gaze towards a frightened Jongin. He’d always heard that the prince was shy and gentle but he’d seen that brave face the boy had put on, and he . . . he hadn’t been able to just walk away. It wasn’t about loyalty to the crown, that wasn’t as important to a kid his age, but something else. Kinship, maybe. In that moment they weren’t a prince and a commoner, they were both just scared children. 

Mark'd acted on pure instinct and grabbed the sword from the fallen soldier, the weight almost too much for him to wield, but he hadn’t needed to wield it properly — in the end, it was just a pointy stick. He’d put all his weight behind it and a mighty cry had left youthful lungs as he launched himself forward. Not many people could say they’d killed their first man at the age of seven. Mark hadn’t even had time to process it before he’d been dropping the weapon, his hands shaking like a leaf as he’d reached out to grab the elder’s sleeve and tug him down the hall. To safety; there were people everywhere, bad people with swords and axes. There were so many bodies and Mark knew they _had_ to get out of there.

Perks of growing up in this very castle meant that he knew of all the secret tunnels that ran between the walls and ventured beneath the earth, often having heard whispers during his days, but some he used when he’d be sent off on errands; the smaller one in the kitchen was the one he dragged Jongin to, making the prince go in first so that he could close the gap behind them and ushering him along.The tunnels were old and filled with dust and dirt, old siege routes that’d been built for this exact reason but had been forgotten after decades of peace. It’d felt like hours as they’d walked through the tunnels, Mark feeling rather numb and Jongin trying (and failing miserably) to hold back tears. Mark couldn’t blame him. The people who’d raised him, he’d seen most of them cut up on the floor. Enese had always been a peaceful kingdom and neither of them had ever seen such violence and gore as they’d just been subjected to. Even seasoned soldiers would’ve struggled with the horrors there that day.

Eventually, they’d emerged into the morning light just past the outskirts of the city. The farms were . . . well, it wasn’t as congested as the city but there were still bodies everywhere and the buildings were still smouldering, most structures no more than smoking piles of ash and rubble. Mark had made sure they kept walking, keeping out of sight even though there were no signs of life around them. It was like a wasteland, so different from the beautiful fields he’d wandered through only days prior. After a while they’d stumbled into a house, desperate for some reprieve, though Jongin had lost his last meal when they had to step over the bodies of the children in the doorway, their mouths still open in silent screams. Mark had just sniffled and tried not to look too hard. It wasn’t ideal but Mark hadn’t felt too guilty for rummaging around for food and supplies, stuffing his face with some bread and stashing the rest in a bag since Jongin didn’t look like he wanted to eat right away. In hindsight, they could’ve done a lot of things better, but they were just kids. They’d had no idea of how to survive or even what had happened to an extent, certainly not what they were supposed to do now. They’d taken food and clothes and water, a dull sword, and then Mark had led Jongin to the horse he found tied out the back, shuffling nervously. “You should go, Your Highness.”

He’d watched as Jongin fiddled with the saddle, tightening it, and of _course_ he knew what to do, he was a _prince_ , he’d grown up learning to ride in the royal stables. Mark, on the other hand, had only ever been able to feed the glorious steeds carrots and apples through the fences, never even permitted to stay longer than a few minutes in case he did something wrong. “You get up first,” the older boy had spoken first, making Mark’s eyes widen almost comically.

“I— what? I mean pardon, Your Highness, I can’t ride—”

“That’s why I said get up first, it’ll be easier that way. And . . . call me Jongin, okay? You saved my life, . . .”

“Mark, Your— I mean, Jongin. My name’s Mark Lee.” Jongin smiled at that, a barely visible twitch of his lips, and something about that smile comforted Mark despite everything they' d just seen. The prince was handsome in that way you expected royalty to be, like some ideal version of what everyone desired, with golden skin and bright, kind eyes framed by stunning silver hair that fell over his forehead on one side.

“You saved my life, Mark, I’m not just going to leave you behind. We need to stick together.”

So, Mark had gotten up onto the horse (with some help of course), looking rather nervous and altogether stiff like he was expecting to fall off at any second; Jongin had hoisted himself up with ease and settled in the saddle behind him before reaching forward to grab the reigns in a way that showed just how comfortable he was riding. “You can relax, Mark. I won’t let you fall.”

— 

Those first few weeks had no doubt been the hardest. The country had been ravaged by their invaders and they’d had to hide constantly, avoiding any main roads and making sure that they didn’t have a fire going unless it was absolutely necessary even if it was cold enough to numb their fingers, just in case someone followed the smoke. Jongin had been fine in his (albeit now dirty) thick, luxe clothes and fur coat, but Mark had always been cold in his own threadbare clothing, his feet often growing numb from all the holes in his shoes. Jongin had hated the idea of stealing at first, had even scolded Mark for it, but eventually, he’d realised that it was the only way they had a chance to survive. They lived off scraps and sometimes got a little sick from it, especially Jongin who’d always eaten only the best — when that would happen Mark would tentatively rub at his back like the maids used to do for him and tell him that he’d be alright. 

The first time Jongin peeled off his coat to use it as a blanket he’d beckoned Mark over, refusing to take no for an answer and making sure the younger cuddled up by his side to stay warm. They’d both been dirty and starving and never quite warm but things had gotten better, gradually. Or, rather, things could’ve been a _lot_ worse. Their saving grace was the fact that the new king was under the impression that the prince was been killed — a guard had come across a boy in regal clothing, said it was the prince, and the face had been disfigured enough that the head that was so proudly displayed on a pike on the castle gate hadn't raised any questions. For all intents and purposes, Jongin was dead. If there’d been people searching for them then they undoubtedly would’ve been captured within the first week, but they weren’t — it didn’t mean they were out of the clear at all.

Two months after the fall of Enese, Mark watched as Jongin killed for the first time. They’d been walking through the forest, their horse having spooked and run two nights prior when a tree had fallen during a wild storm when they’d come across a man. He’d seemed nice enough at first, had even let them warm themselves by his fire, had given them soup which was the first fresh food they’d had in so, so long, and they’d gotten to talking — they’d been so desperate that they hadn’t even thought twice about it. They hadn’t been stupid enough to say who they were or where they were really from but the man had recognised the little crest on Jongin’s tattered cloak. He'd laughed and started rambling about how they were going to make him rich; Mark had been _terrified._ He'd struggled and kicked as the man had overpowered him and tied him up, though he hadn’t realised what was happening until he heard a grunt and saw that the man had dropped to the ground with blood blossoming across his chest. There was shining metal piercing through his bloodied chest. The sword they’d taken from the farmhouse. Mark'd started crying, _finally_ , sobbing as any kid would, and Jongin . . . he'd had held him, shaking just a little himself and trying to reassure him that everything would be okay now, that they were even. They’d gotten Jongin new clothes after that.

It was the first, but not the last time they saved each other.

— 

It’d taken long years for them to start actively planning to take back Enese in any sense. After that first year, they'd gotten much more skilled at blending in and surviving and they’d learned to adapt as most humans did. Jongin taught him how to ride and how to read and write, and they both learned together: how to fight, to lie, to swindle. Jongin became _Kai_ , just in case, but in private Mark would always refer to the elder by his birth name. He’d been asked about his own once when he was eleven, Jongin then fourteen, but Mark had just shrugged. 

“I don’t have one like you do, a family name.” Lee was popular, which was why most bastards and orphans ended up with it tacked on to their first name. To blend in. “They didn’t know who my mother was, so the maids called me Minhyung, but . . . it never really felt right? So, Mark. The only person who called me Minhyung was . . .” he trailed off, pursing his lips. They both knew what he meant, that there was no point finishing it because Taeyong would’ve died many years ago. Jongin reached out though and gently patted his shoulder.

“Tell me," he prompted. "If we don’t talk about the dead, then they really are gone — it’s our job to keep their memory alive.”

It became a habit after that, that they’d sit around a fire and eat their dinner (if they had any that day) and talk about the people they’d lost. About Taeyong, the maids, Jongin’s parents and friends, his cousin who’s head had been displayed rather than his own.

It wasn’t until they met Ten that things really changed in any significant way. They’d never opened themselves up to anyone before, certainly never told the truth — it’d always been just _them_. Two against the world. They’d come across a boy in rusted chains, though, eight years after that fateful night, and they hadn’t been able to walk away, not after seeing the deep, mottled bruises on his skin and that fire burning in his eyes. He still had some fight left in him. Mark had been the one to distract the bulky slave trader that’d been watching over him and he'd almost gotten caught before he’d been able to circle back around the town to meet back up with Jongin, whilst the elder had broken through the chains so that they could run. Ten had been _terrible_ company at first; all snark and _certainly_ capable of biting. At first, Ten had refused to even speak a word to them, fearing they were just going to be his newest captors, but something about them must have changed his mind along the way. Eventually, he’d opened up, or, rather hadn’t pushed them away, and when they’d been able to get close enough to take off those shackles he hadn’t run from them. His magic had been . . . well, completely unexpected, but they hadn’t feared it like he was sure Ten had been waiting for; Mark had never seen magic in real life and Jongin had only ever read about it in the books he'd studied as a youth. Both of them had seen it as something utterly wonderous. That acceptance was the start of a bond between them, _something special_.

“So, you’re a prince.”

“ _Was_ a prince.” Ten had scoffed at that, taking another bite of the steaming loaf of bread he’d conjured, his other hand leaning back into the resulting shrivelled grass.

“You’re alive, aren’t you? Seems to me that you took the easy way out. If _I_ was a prince, you’d have to kill me before I gave that up.”

Lucas came afterwards, incredibly tall with golden skin stretched over lean muscles and short, brown hair that was dark but shone like spun gold thread in the light with a deep voice that was always accompanied by loud laughter. He was a skilled fighter who’d followed them after noticing Ten in the market place and he'd just . . . never left. Lucas was utterly lethal with that broadsword that he carried at his back but in reality, he was just a big dork. To be honest he was a bit clumsy at times, like an uncoordinated puppy, but that seemed to be because he felt comfortable letting his guard down around them. They all got along well. When he found out their story he’d been absolutely mortified by the fact that he’d been talking so informally to a _prince_ and had called Jongin ‘Your Highness’ for _weeks_ , much to his dismay. Mark had thought it was incredibly hilarious. Jongin not so much. Eventually, Jongin had put a stop to it, but it’d led to one of the most meaningful moments of Mark’s life: when the other had said they could both be his knights, then, if they insisted on treating him like a prince. He’d thought Jongin was joking until the older male had gotten out a sword and knighted them right there. Mark couldn’t fathom it, how he - Mark Lee who’d come from nothing, who was no one - could become a _knight_ , how he could ever be worthy of it. Of serving Jongin

“You’re _Sir Mark_ now, so don’t forget it. You deserve this more than anyone, Mark. You’ve saved my life so many times that I stopped counting,” Jongin'd insisted with a warm hand on his nape and a fond smile curling at his lips as Mark had tried not to look like the kid they teased him about being, his eyes stinging.

“We saved each other, hyung.”

After that had been Baekhyun. Baekhyun was . . . something else. Despite his age, he was only around Mark's height, though the older male was the sort of person that _always_ turned heads with hair that seemed impossibly dark and a smouldering look he seemed to have mastered — a different sort of alluring to the charm that Ten was so good at playing up. He was certainly intimidating at first, but Mark supposed that they’d never had the best first meeting given that the elder had tried to rob them of everything they had, lowering their guard with honeyed smiles and laughter. Mark wasn’t quite sure why he’d stuck around or how he’d become part of their ragtag bunch of misfits, but he had, and Baekhyun had become a sort of glue that held them all together. Someone who kept their spirits up, who could put them in their place when it was necessary. An angry hyung was _not_ a pleasant hyung to be around.

It was Taemin who’d set the wheels in motion, though, who’d given them true purpose, or . . . perhaps just given them that last push towards what they’d been working towards since they were chased from their homeland.

They had the means, after thirteen years. Jongin, or rather Kai as he was well known, was a fierce fighter — it’d scared Mark at first, just how good he was at turning off that little switch inside his mind, how he could change into someone barely recognisable within a second. Jongin was sweet and kind, the man you wanted to hold hands with at night, and Kai . . . Kai was _dangerous_. The sort of man you wanted to do unspeakable things you in the dark of the night. He could fight with seemingly anything but his favourite weapon was that double-sided spear he always had by his side.

Mark was good, too. He was rather capable with a blade since he'd been trained by Jongin but where he really excelled was with a bow and arrow — Jongin had encouraged that passion, even admitted once that he felt better when Mark had their backs, especially when it meant he didn’t need to worry about him being lost in the fray of a fight. Lucas, on the other hand, wielded that broadsword like it was made of paper even though Mark had barely been able to even lift it all the way up last time he’d checked. He was loyal to a fault, but with a strong moral compass. They all trusted Jongin to never lead them astray. Ten was, well, _Ten_ : his magic had only grown even more potent over the years, and he’d blossomed into, uh, something. Mark meant that in a good way, but he was so intense in a way that often caught Mark off guard, and when he was angry he could be downright terrifying, even more so than Baekhyun, who was wicked with his belt of knives. Even to this day, Mark was always asking questions about how his magic worked, how the exchange worked, because there was rarely any visible effects. He’d never get used to Ten popping out of random shadows like it was nothing.

They hadn’t found Taemin. Rather, Taemin had found them; he’d waltzed into the tavern they'd been enjoying a warm meal in, had taken a seat before they could even realise what was happening and had captured Jongin’s jaw in his firm grip. He'd leant right in and stared into his eyes like he was searching for _something_. Baekhyun had been the quickest and had thrown one of those nifty little blades he kept stashed in his sleeve, but Taemin had caught it with his fingers and _tutted_ them, pulling back and looking around at their little group. Mark had seen how Jongin seemed to be in awe, how Ten had been as white as a sheet. _Scared._ Mark had never seen him scared before, not like that. “Yes, you’ll do,” the mysterious stranger had purred, seeming far too pleased with the situation.

Taemin was even scarier than Ten even if he’d never so much as threatened someone or raised his voice. Hell, Mark'd never even seen him angry. Sometimes he didn’t utter a word, other times he’d disappear for days or even weeks at a time and return with no explanation, just a grin that was never overly comforting. He was so _intense_ and his gaze was enough to always have Mark stammering over his words and looking away, cheeks flushing out of embarrassment. Taemin liked unsettling people, but for some unknown reason he'd stuck with them and encouraged them, helped them, even. Sometimes it scared Mark how he referred to them as humans as though he wasn’t one himself; he couldn’t deny that sometimes he’d find his eyes drawn to the ashy blond at the most random times and, for a split moment, it was almost like he saw someone else through it all. Taemin and Ten seemed close these days like they had a bond no one else could understand, but Ten had never answered his questions about why he’d been so scared of Taemin that first time — Mark assumed that it was just because he was even more powerful than Ten.

— 

“We’re all wanderers, Jongin. If we can get you back where you belong, that’s something, right?” It was the most serious thing he’d ever heard Lucas say.

“Our home,” Jongin insisted, voice fierce and jaw set. “Enese will be a home for all of us, I swear it —you’re my family.”

And so two warlocks, two knights, a thief and a prince headed back on a long journey to reclaim their homeland.

—

Mark would never doubt Jongin, but by the gods, it seemed like such an impossible task even with the small army they’d amassed. Some were questionable groups of people that had arrived in the month that Taemin had been absent and they were sort of terrifying, honestly. Most were Jongin’s own people, though, the people of his country who’d held out in the hopes that some sort of saviour would return. Mark still didn’t know how Taemin had done it, not just found them some good fighting men to use, but how he’d kept their little army of perhaps five hundred hidden the entire time they’d travelled through the country — he hadn’t answered any questions of the sort. Instead, he'd just given one of his signature smiles and ran a hand over Mark’s arm. Taemin told him not to worry his pretty little face about it.

“How do I know they’ll follow orders, Min? I don’t want them hurting my people. I don’t want more death than there needs to be,” Jongin asked one night as they went over their plan for attack, still the only one capable of getting away with such a nickname. Taemin just smiled — that sweet, pleasant smile that never ceased to send shivers down Mark’s spine.

“Oh, they’ll follow orders. Just leave it to me, Jongin.”

And they did. It felt surreal to head back through that tunnel they’d escaped through all those years ago, even more overgrown than it’d been back then, five people following his lead as he lead them through the maze towards the kitchens — it was so easy when they weren't expecting anything, like taking candy from a baby. “Cut the head off the snake,” Ten had murmured during their planning, “and the rest will follow.” They let Jongin stay to do the honours of dealing with the man who’d killed his entire family, but Taemin, he insisted on staying too, something in his eyes that Mark wasn't quite been able to decipher. Trusting him was like trusting a wild cat not to rip your throat out, but they trusted him regardless, and so they continued with the plan — they worked their way from the inside out whilst their army worked their way in through the city gates. They met somewhere in the middle.

Mark held back a bit during the battle and stuck to higher ground where he could be the most helpful like Ten, who didn’t like to get his hands dirty if he could help it, but it’d been inevitable that he’d be thrown into the fray eventually. He was balancing on a tattered awning, looking down another arrow knocked on his bow, when the structure completely caved underneath him. Mark barely held back a yelp as he landed wrong on his ankle but he didn't have any time to recover before a sword was being swung his way. He just barely managed to duck to avoid it but the man was _relentless_ and he didn’t have time to reach for anything else. He was struggling to even stay upright, and then he _fell_. He thought that’d be it. That a small miscalculation was going to mark him as a casualty Jongin wouldn't live down.

All of a sudden, a shaky shout reached his ear. _Shi_ t, a civilian. Mark tried to get back up off the ground and fumbled for the dagger at his thigh that Jongin had gifted him on his eighteenth birthday, but when he looked back up there was a big burst of light, the smell of sizzling flesh, and a pained cry. Mark took his chance; the dark-haired male lunged forward and drove that dagger forward into his back, twisting it so the unforgiving grooves could catch on bone like he’d been taught. He pulled it out and listened to that resounding wet crunch before the man fell to the ground, prone. Panting, Mark took a moment to steady himself. Confused. He only had a moment to look up in awe and contemplate thanking his saviour before he heard his name —not the one he’d chosen and was used to, but the one he’d been given as a young boy. _Minhyung_. Only one person had called him that, save for the maids.

 _Taeyong_.

Mark lunged forward but he wasn't able to catch the other male before he hit the ground. Instantly he crouched down by his side and instantly moved to check that he was still breathing, that his head wasn’t bleeding — he _looked_ fine, like he’d just passed out. Likely from . . . the magic? The Taeyong he remembered from his youth didn’t have magic of any sort, but then again they’d just been kids back then. Gods, Taeyong was _alive,_ had saved his life after all these years, had remembered him. He was so . . . so grown up, yet he was still just the same as what he remembered somehow, with a strong jaw and large eyes, a lithe figure. Mark cursed and tucked the dagger back into its sheath before he lifted Taeyong as best he could into his arms (which was hard given his injured ankle). He only managed to hobble a few streets over to where he’d last seen Ten before he started really struggling with the weight of another person on his injury.

Ten had always had a helpful habit of showing up just when you needed him and this was no exception. The shadows swirled violently a few feet away from him and the other male stepped out of them, looking a little tired and sporting a split lip. Regardless, he was over by Mark’s side within a split second. Hah, and he liked to pretend that he didn’t care. “How’d you—“

“Like I don’t keep tabs on you, Mark Lee. Jongin would have my head if I let your cute little ass get hurt.” A pause, then a sigh. “What happened?”

“I— I know him, Ten, he . . . gods, he’s my friend. He saved me, and he—“ no, he’d talk about that later. “I need you to get him to the castle, so he’s safe. Where are we at?”

“The army is doing its job. Minimal casualties. Just dealing with a group of soldiers in the square that are holding hostages.”

“Okay, I’ll walk back then.” Ten rolled his eyes, and Mark only had a brief moment to let out a squawk of protest as Ten’s fingers curled into his shirt, the shadows swirling around them like a whirlwind before they swept them away into darkness.


	3. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong wakes up and meets one of Mark's friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edited]

Lucas was walking down the hall, wiping some of the blood off his face with a rag he’d come across — which was rather redundant given the fact that he was literally covered in it — when there was a small pop, a buzz in the air that he’d learn to associate with magic, before shadows were swirling up from the cracks in the ground. He paused, blinking, but the moment that he saw Ten stumbling forward he pitched towards them, his arms reaching out to catch the smaller male. At least these long limbs of his came in handy sometimes. “Woah,” he exclaimed, steadying himself and helping the other stand upright, not letting go just yet. He still looked a little vague. Definitely exhausted. “What happened?”

“I think he tired himself out, and then he was supposed to bring Taeyong back but he brought me, too. He has trouble taking two of us at once at the best of times," Mark half-rambled. There was a snort at that and Lucas let Ten clutch at his armour as he pulled himself up to stand properly.

“I know my limits,” Ten disagreed, pulling his hand back and then grimacing at all the blood on it. The fact that his usual bite was missing was enough to prove that Mark was right. “Xuxi, sweetheart, you’re getting blood all over me.”

“Oh, sorry!” He blurted before finally pulling back a little. He still kept a hand on Ten’s arm, though, _just in case_. His brows were furrowed a little, eyes holding an obvious concern because he’d never seen the other push himself this far — it’d been easier than expected to win today but it’d still been harsh out there. Touch and go at times. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I could carry you.” That at least got a laugh and in turn Lucas smiled at the older male. Yeah, Ten would be fine.

“As tempting as that is, no, I’ll be fine. Besides, Mark brought back a stray and they’re both hurt.” Ten patted his cheek, taking the rag and wiping at some of the mess he’d missed. “You go and get cleaned up. Pick a room. Jongin said we should be able to find anything that we need.”

— 

When Taeyong woke up his whole body was aching and there was a sharpness in his temples that had him groaning sleepily. “You’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice hummed, making his eyes snap open a little quicker, but the pounding in his head made it hard to focus. His vision blurred for a few moments before he could finally see the figure sitting beside him. He looked like . . . well, Taeyong wasn’t quite sure, but the man was beautiful in a way that he wasn't used to. He stared for a moment, taking in the fact he was in a bed, and in the other chair he could see— oh. It all rushed back rather quickly and, even if he didn’t really understand what had happened, he remembered Minhyung. He instantly moved to sit up but a firm hand on his chest pushed him back down into the soft sheets, the man's rings cold even through the material of his shirt. Taeyong swallowed thickly. “Calm down, he’s fine— gods, you’re just as bad as each other.”

“You know Minhyung?” The beautiful man looked confused for a moment and then he laughed, his gorgeous eyes shining with something almost mischievous.

“Minhyung, huh? Interesting. Mark will be fine, he only sprained his ankle — you, though, you’re going to feel rough for a few hours. I mean honestly, how stupid do you have to be to use magic like that with no trade-off? It could’ve killed you if you weren’t strong enough.” Taeyong blinked once, then twice. What? Mark? Magic? None of this made sense. His mind was simultaneously filled with thoughts yet simultaneously it felt blank.

“Magic?” He murmured, thinking back to the events in the alley and . . . oh, the light that’d hit the guard. “That was _me_?”

“Baby told me you saved him. That you blasted the guy he was fighting,” the man hummed matter-of-factly, propping his cheek on his hand. “I’m Ten, by the way.”

“Taeyong,” he answered as he gingerly rested his head back onto the pillow. “Was that really me?” Taeyong asked in a much quieter, almost meek tone, a barely-there tremble sneaking its way into his voice as he spoke. This was all too much for him to process — the fact that Minhyu— _Mark_ was alive. The fact that there’d been another battle. That Mark seemed to be friends with their latest invaders. That apparently he’d . . . that somehow he’d been the cause of whatever the hell had happened, and gods, part of him wanted to deny it, but deep down he _knew_ it was true. He’d felt it. 

“Yes.”

Taeyong let out a shaky breath and nodded, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the fact they were burning. Magic, huh? After all this time they’d been right. He could never regret doing whatever he’d done to help Mark, even if he had no idea how or what he’d actually done, but part of him did wish it’d never happened — _he didn’t want this_. It was essentially a death sentence and, gods, it’d made him feel like absolute shit. “Can you please get me some feverfew?” He asked with a surprisingly even voice. “I’m hurting.” Feverfew was usually used for illness but it was great for inflammation and headaches and Taeyong definitely had a lot of that. For a moment he thought Ten would say no (because what reason did he have to help him, anyway?) but instead, after a few moments, the other agreed.

Taeyong was glad he had a few minutes to cry in private.

—

Trust was never something that had come easy to Ten, but in his defence, he’d never had a reason to trust anyone until that fateful night when he’d met Jongin and Mark. Humans were cruel, selfish creatures that cared about nothing more than lining their pockets and finding something to fuck and he’d despised them all from the moment he was old enough to think for himself — now that he was older, he’d admit that perhaps he had a few exceptions to that belief. As a general rule, though, he didn’t trust humans, especially not ones like the boy that Mark had carried off the streets, the one he’d spoken about so much during their late-night storytimes where he’d only listen, never share. Taeyong. There was no possible way that the boy couldn’t have known he had magic, and what Mark had described to him as they’d laid the frail figure down onto the bed _couldn’t_ have been his first manifestation. Power like that, it didn’t just appear overnight.

So no, Ten didn’t trust him, not in the slightest, but he _would_ play nice for Mark’s sake until he knew more.

It wasn’t too hard to find the healer’s quarters in this damned castle, but it wasn’t the most impressive thing he’d ever seen. Honestly, it was rather pathetic, and there was a distinct lack of anything special, just jars and books and other trivial things — Ten wasn’t discounting the power of traditional healing, but magic was so much . . . well, _more_. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t snoop around a little bit, but he did have a task to fulfil and it’d been rather easy to find what he’d come here for: a little bottle of feverfew, filled with a thick oil he knew from experience didn’t taste the best, but in terms of remedies it wasn’t the worst. This Taeyong obviously had medicinal knowledge and Ten stored that little bit of information away for future use. The dark-haired male tucked the bottle into the inside of his shirt, glancing around one last time before closing the door behind him and heading back down the hall.

“Open up,” he hummed, holding the little dropper out above the other’s mouth pointedly. Taeyong just looked at him like he was nervous, eyes flitting about, and he could _feel_ his apprehension. His fear. He sort of reminded him of a mouse, a far cry from the boy Mark had always described.

“How do I know you’re not going to poison me?” He asked quietly, and it almost made Ten feel bad. _Almost_.

“You don’t,” he answered bluntly, jiggling the dropper a little bit and waiting. He watched as the boy swallowed thickly before opening his mouth just a little. Ten squeezed the dropper, letting a few drops fall down onto his tongue, and then he pulled back and screwed it back down onto the bottle so that he could set it to the side as the other swallowed. The effect was rather instantaneous, honestly; he watched as Taeyong’s eyes became a little more glassy, hands gripping at the blanket over him weakly like he was realising something was wrong. “It’s fine,” Ten reassured, because he wasn’t completely heartless. “It’s just to help you sleep some more. If I was going to kill you, I would’ve been much more creative.” It was oddly peaceful, watching the way Taeyong drifted off, his eyes travelling over the other’s face, over soft lips and rosy cheeks up to his hair, inky strands falling everywhere with . . . huh, a few singular strands of what seemed to be almost white near his temple. Interesting.

Ten was more than a little tired himself but he wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable falling asleep here, not yet, not then Mark was also asleep — someone would come looking eventually and he’d get some rest then. For now, he settled back into his chair, his cheek resting on the back of his palm as he watched over the sleeping pair.


	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong and Mark catch up, he meets more of Mark's friends, and he has another dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edited]

“How did you _forget_ to mention that the Jongin in your story is the prince?” Taeyong blurted as his mouth hung open, staring at Mark who was sitting opposite him on the bed and picking at his own breakfast. They’d both woken up a little late but a tall man — Lucas — had brought them both food and said it was good to meet him. He seemed really nice, especially when he smiled. The man from last night, Ten, had been gone when he’d awoken, but . . . well, Taeyong wanted to thank him for what he’d done for him despite any reservations he’d had, because there was no real pain in his body today, not like there had been beforehand. He must’ve added something else to the feverfew other than what’d made him sleep. Taeyong knew it couldn’t have been anything normal, which implied _magic_ , and that in itself made him feel slightly better. He’d been scared of what this would mean. There was definitely still a considerable amount of fear and confusion but at the same time knowing that Ten seemed to be like him in a way and that he was still alive certainly raised his hopes; maybe he didn’t need to worry about execution. That, and Mark was talking to him like he was just someone normal, an old friend, though he had to admit that it felt like they’d only been apart for a few months.

Mark looked older. He was more handsome, too, even if he’d likely always have a rather boyish face — Taeyong found that he sort of kept staring but Mark didn’t seem to mind since they were equally guilty of staring at each other. In a way, it was like he hadn’t changed at all over the passing years, because he still had that dorky laugh that lit up the room and a big smile, and the corner of his eyes still puffed up like they used to, but there was a maturity there that was new, more confidence that Taeyong wasn’t used to. It was nice to see. _He seemed happy_. Taeyong had been enthralled as he sat there listening to Mark talk about his newfound family, trying desperately to remember the names and half descriptions he managed to pick out of all the enthusiastic rambling, a little smile curled onto his lips the entire time. He was glad that one of them had that, even if he was the one who'd seemingly drawn the short straw.

“Well, I mean, technically he’s the king now since we won—“ Taeyong choked on his porridge, coughing desperately “— but it’s fine! Jongin’s a really nice guy, you’ll see, and he’s totally chill. I think you’ll get along great.”

“What do you mean ‘get along’? Mark, I’m not . . . I’m not anyone important, not like you,” he murmured, pushing some of his hair back and glancing down at his bowl. He pushed around the last mouthful with his spoon before forcing himself to down that too. Taeyong had been absolutely ravenous when he’d woken up but now he felt a little bit sick and, in hindsight, he’d probably eaten all of this far too quickly. “Don’t get me wrong, I really am grateful for everything, and you being back— it’s incredible. I’d love to meet the rest of your friends but . . . I’m not like you. I’ve lived in this place my entire life and I’m not _special_ , certainly not worthy of befriending a king.”

“Taeyong,” Mark cut in, his voice firm and eyes filled with a resolve that he hadn’t expected. Taeyong averted his own gaze and distracted himmself plucking at the edge of the blanket around his waist with worn fingers. This was already far softer than anything he’d ever touched with his own hands. A warm hand shot out to capture one of his own, squeezing firmly in a way that was so reassuring that he almost wanted to cry, and finally, he forced himself to look back up. “You’re my friend still. You know that, right?” A nod. “You literally saved my life last night — you shot, like, magic light out of your hands. Do you not realise how _cool_ that was?”

“It was an accident—“

“Accident or not, it was amazing. Definitely special.” Taeyong’s lips twitched at that, the faintest of smiles. “We’re all just people. Hyung taught me that. Just . . . give it a chance, okay?” There was silence for a few moments and then Taeyong found himself laughing, hard enough that his shoulders shook and he had to draw his hand back to clutch at his face, cheeks hurting.

“Yes, okay — gods, when did you get so grown up, Mark Lee? Did your king also teach you how to give motivational speeches?”

“That’s _Sir Mark_ to you, thank you very much, and no, that was all me. Pretty good, right?”

“Of course, how could I forget. Sir Mark,” Taeyong corrected with a fond smile gracing flushed cheeks. He’d missed Mark.

— 

The first thing that Baekhyun noticed was that it looked like the kid was going to piss himself as he followed Mark into the room they were all sitting in. It was a bit of a mess in here but there were no bodies or blood left to cause any problems, the castle had just been in a rather decrepit state before they’d even gotten here. About an hour earlier he’d observed as Jongin traced his fingers over the ornate chair at the head of the table, gaze reminiscent and far away as he’d explained this had been the council room once upon a time and that he’d grown up sitting on his father’s lap as the King and his advisors discussed kingdom affairs. Baekhyun could definitely tell this had once been a beautiful castle, but it’d been run into the ground for over a decade — the outpost of a power-hungry empire that certainly didn’t care for any of its subjects, other than the nobles that’d supported them. Even so, it was more lavish than anything that Baekhyun had ever experienced. He liked it.

The kid, Taeyong, had introduced himself quietly, but he didn’t seem the best with eye contact; he’d barely looked up from the table the entire time they’d all been talking and discussing their new goals. Rebuilding, stabilising the economy, all of that stuff. Jongin seemed a little out of his depth, or maybe it was just that, now they were here, he was nervous. Baekhyun had always been observant, though, and his eyes had flickered around the room, deftly twisting a small blade over and over in his fingers the entire time as he took in his companions; everyone was taking this so seriously. Baekhyun supposed he was too, otherwise he wouldn’t have even been here — before Jongin and his little band of outcasts he’d laughed at the idea of putting his life on the line for anyone other than himself. He’d never had a reason to. It’d always been about survival and he’d grown incredibly skilled at reading people.

It was why he hadn’t missed anything, like the way Taeyong’s eyes had gravitated towards the head of the table when he’d first come in. Sure, he’d looked at all of them, but rather than fixing his gaze on the newly crowned king at first he’d focused on Taemin, that apprehensive gaze something that even Baekhyun couldn’t interpret — he’d expected the usual, the curiosity, the lust, but it hadn’t been that. The thing that’d surprised him more than anything was that Taemin had stared back from where he was perched on the side of the chair, legs crossed and one half on Jongin’s lap, one arm thrown around the back of the chair. Knowing the other, he probably had his fingers curled into Jongin’s hair, toying with those strands at the nape of his neck like he often took to doing. Ten was at his other side, but at least he was still in his own seat, even if he’d gravitated closer and always leant in close to talk.

Out of everyone in their little group, Taemin was the one who still possessed some air of mystery because none of them really knew anything substantial about his past or where he’d come from. They just knew he was like Ten. Magic. Ten had an ego (he said that fondly, of course) but even he’d scoffed and said that Taemin was leagues above him when he’d inquired about their power imbalance. The taller male was completely unpredictable and if Baekhyun had to describe him in few words . . . it was like interacting with the illusion of a person that was being carefully presented to you, with rare glimpses at whatever the hell lurked underneath.

But Taemin didn’t just stare for a second, no— he kept staring like he was _searching_ for something, his features a clean slate of perfectly polished marble.

“The city is in ruins but most of the damage is still from the first battle,” Lucas explained as he leant back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table, as carefree as ever. Baekhyun had given up on scolding him by that point. “We could give them the means to fix things. I mean, it seems like some of these people haven’t had a proper home for years.”

“With all due respect, gestures like that won’t gain their trust, or their loyalty.”

“Ah, so the little mouse has a voice after all,” Taemin spoke up, his voice that pleasant rumble that it’d been that first timed they’d met. Surprisingly Taeyong didn’t shy away even if he was obviously nervous. Jongin nodded for him to continue.

“I . . . it’s been hell here, Your Majesty. We’ve been barely surviving for years. Your people have lost any semblance of faith they had in the crown — they’ll fear you before they ever follow you and I don't think that money will win them all over.”

“What do you think we should do, Taeyong?” Mark asked pointedly in a subtly encouraging tone, smiling like he was happy the other was finally contributing.

“It’s not my place to tell any of you what to do," Taeyong clarified, "but I think that you need to show them that you’re here to help, not to just rule them. We’ve had a king for fifteen years, but we’ve never had a leader.”

And so, they decided that they’d send some men to help with the efforts, including Mark; he’d be a familiar face to some, a sign that they did have a voice in the castle. It seemed like a pretty solid plan and the best part was that Baekhyun got to focus on sorting out the castle instead of having to fish through rubble tomorrow. At least he’d get the first pick of a room and get to explore. Scope the place out. Much more fun.

—

“Are you sure you’ll be okay, Yong? There’s plenty of room in the castle,” Mark suggested for probably the twentieth time since they’d left the castle, walking through the shop carefully like he was hesitant of breaking anything. It was small and compact but it did the job and Taeyong knew the maze of shelves like the back of his hand, good enough to navigate it in the dark, at least.

“I’m sure, Mark. I . . . it’s home, even if it’s not much — I’ll be fine, promise.” Taeyong had gotten lucky, anyway. There had been some destruction during the battle, mostly along the main street and in the marketplace and the surrounding buildings, but his little store and had been salvageable, probably due to its position off of the main strip. There had only been some minor looting; you could eat food, but you couldn't eat medicine. Taeyong shrugged off the long coat Mark had insisted on him taking and hung it on the hook by the doorway to his room before opening the door. It wasn’t much, just one small room in the back of the store with a bed on the floor and a small kitchen, but it was enough. His family home had been destroyed all those years ago and he’d just been here ever since. It was still more than most people had.

“Gods, you don’t even have a fireplace—“

“Of course I don’t, it’s an apothecary,” Taeyong teased with a smile. Mark didn’t seem impressed by his wit.

“It’ll be too cold.”

“No it won’t. I’ve got this coat now, and a blanket — and socks that your friend Lucas gave me. It’s already more than I had before.” That didn’t seem to placate his friend in the slightest. “Mark,” he added, softer this time. Taeyong stepped forward so that he could capture the other's hands and squeeze them lightly with a fond little smile. “It’s okay, _I promise_. I’ve lived here for nearly my whole life, another night isn’t going to magically be the end of me. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll rope Lucas in too,” Mark finally conceded, squeezing back before he pulled Taeyong into a warm hug and held it for a solid minute. “I’m glad you’re here, Taeyong.”

— 

“ _Who are you_?” The voice purred just shy of his ear, the one that’d been visiting his dreams for years. Taeyong shivered, his eyes closed and his heart pounding steadily in his chest as he floated in the darkness that’d engulfed his consciousness. These nights were preferable to his nightmares, but then again he’d never really been able to figure out whether these were just another type of nightmare or not; they were certainly ominous in their own way. They always left him on edge.

“Lee Taeyong,” he answered. His voice held the quality one would expect if you were trapped underwater, too far beneath the surface for it to be heard clearly, even to your own ears.

“ _No, **who** are you_?” Warm hands ghosted over his sides, trailing up over his ribs which were more pronounced than they should be, over his chest to his shoulder before one slid forward to settle under his jaw. Taeyong never saw anything, really — it wasn’t a dream in that sense, more like a sensory experience. There’d be noise, in the form of _the_ voice, one that he almost thought he’d finally heard in waking hours. It was masculine, he was fairly sure, but such things didn’t matter wherever he was floating. There’d be touch, in the form of large hands, almost soothing in the way that they’d caress his skin, never dipping below his waist even though there’d been times when he’d almost admit he wanted it. Warm breath washing over the nape of his neck, his cheek. There was smell, something that he’d found so thick and cloying at first, like the ash was creeping into his lungs and stealing the breath right from him. Never sight, but when he tried to think in the mornings, all he could often recall was what he could only call the eyes of a feline, eyes that shone a vibrant amber, vertical slits staring right into his soul.

“I . . . I don’t know what you mean.” The voice had been getting louder for months, and tonight it was so clear that he could hear every little inflexion opposed to when it’d started and sounded so far away he hadn’t even known it was a voice. Right behind him, rather than miles away, and he wasn’t sure what to take from that. “I’m Taeyong.”

The voice chuckled — a low rumble that he felt vibrating in the air around him, and then it was so quiet, barely a whisper right in his ear. So close lips should’ve followed. “ _ **We’ll see**_.”

Taeyong’s eyes snapped open and for a moment he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of gold in the darkness of his room — but as quick as he saw it, it was gone. The dark-haired male sat in his bed, flushed and panting despite the frigid air that’d settled around him. Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	5. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong gets better acquainted with some of Mark's companions as he learns more about magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep telling myself to wait longer to update in case I burn myself out, but I've already surpassed 20,000 words and I'm impatient.
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta, so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> (things are going to start getting more interesting)
> 
> [edited]

“Taeyong! Did you really do all of this?” Yeojin laughed as she wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. A few of the other citizens helped him carry over the collection of baskets he’d managed to fill during his efforts. Yeojin was a lovely lady with dark hair that was just starting to grey despite her age, her face sporting smile lines and crows feet which only spoke of her kind and compassionate nature. Taeyong had known of her for a long time, though he’d only met her properly a few years ago when he’d desperately attempted to save her son; Jongyul had been just like his mother but he’d have a brave streak that’d gotten him killed in the end. All over a loaf of bread. Everyone had learnt to never talk back to the guard and to give in even if it meant going hungry, but he’d still stood up for that little girl despite all of it. Taeyong had done everything he could to save him but the blade had hit something internally when it’d pierced his torso and he hadn’t had the supplies he needed to heal him. Even then . . . well. All he’d been able to do was make it as painless as possible and give the boy time to say goodbye to his mother. He’d never quite been able to fathom how she was so grateful to him even though he’d failed her.

“I wish I could’ve done more,” he admitted as he set down the basket he’d been carrying. This one alone was more food than most families saw in months. “I couldn’t sleep and I had permission to use some of the supplies they brought in with them.” Originally they were just going to bring grain and water, but when he’d checked the store there’d been plenty of fruit, too, and he’d figured that bread would be much more preferable — the baker had let him use his ovens in exchange for some of the supplies, and he’d even sent his eldest son, Taeil, along to help carry everything. It hadn’t been easy work (in fact, his arms were still aching from kneading out all the dough) but it was worth it by far to see the way that everyone’s faces were lighting up.

“The king let you just _have_ all this? Gods, look at this fruit! I feel like I haven’t seen an apple in years,” one of the men exclaimed with a light in his eyes that Taeyong hadn’t seen in many people in a very long time. Truth be told, Taeyong didn’t even know where the fruit had come from. All their own crops were still bare, had been for years, and this stuff was so perfect, the sort of stuff you’d expect to see in the palace rather than being handed out to the common folk. He certainly hadn’t seen it in the envoy they’d brought with them.

“What does he expect in return?” Another man added, looking considerably warier. Taeyong just offered a small smile and continued handing out more food as he considered the question.

“I don’t think he wants anything,” he admitted openly, which instantly started up a rumble of murmurs, most in disbelief, others sceptical. “I know it’s hard to imagine but the royal family were good to us back then, right? I still remember the stories my father used to tell me about their generosity. I think we have to at least try and believe that King Jongin might be like his father.”

“I heard they call him other things, though. He has a reputation for being bloodthirsty and violent.”

“I heard he wiped out a whole town’s worth of soldiers all by himself.”

“I heard that he surrounds himself with dark magic. We don't need that trouble here.”

“Me too— Kai, right? How do we know he’s anything more than a mercenary wanting to play king. I mean, hell, what does he even know about ruling a kingdom? He was just a kid when the city fell.” Taeyong pursed his lips at that, rather uncomfortable with the fact he had so many eyes on him, waiting and listening like somehow _he_ was someone important by association; it was unsettling for someone like him, someone who’d gotten by his whole life by hiding. He knew these people had every right to be scared and unsure of their new monarch, and gods, he _understood_. Taeyong couldn’t claim to know any of these people he’d just met well enough to vouch for them, especially after such a brief meeting — they were rather intimidating and so unique compared to the people he was used to. He did know Mark, though, and he trusted him wholeheartedly.

“We don’t,” he admitted and that caused even more of an uproar. “But during the invasion, his men didn’t injure anyone other than the guard and they protected us. He’s given us food, water, a promise of soldiers to help us rebuild. Isn’t that already more than our last king ever did?” A few nods. “I think he could be a good king, for us, and if he can fight . . . well, all the better to keep the city safe.” Taeyong had left it at that, handing out more warm loaves and trying to keep up with all the small talk that bustled around him.

Taeyong ended up helping in other ways than just his delivery, but even he had to admit that he wasn’t well suited to the heavier labour that they really needed to get done. There was more rubble than they’d be able to clean in weeks, maybe months, but they had to start rebuilding at some point, and for once it seemed like they actually had a chance for something better. Something _good_. Gods, he hoped that Mark wasn’t wrong about this new king. Even so, he was starting to worry, because the sun was nearing its highest point in the sky and there was still no sign of his friend nor the men that’d been promised to help aid them in their effort. He wasn’t the strongest, not by a long shot, but he still rolled up his sleeves and ignore the chill in the air to head over and start lifting things. They had a good system going, honestly. Distinct piles set up so that they could organise everything from wood to stone, things that could be repurposed and metal that could be melted down — there was a sense of spirit here that was so different to anything he was used to in the city walls.

 _Hope_ , he supposed. It truly was a powerful thing.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Taeyong had almost finished this little area all by himself and he really, _really_ didn’t want to have to resort to asking for assistance — he’d seen people carrying slabs this size easily by themselves, but he couldn’t reach to the other side and he was struggling to lift it from just one end, hands already scraped up and trying to find purchase on the smooth stone. The dark-haired male cursed and was about to give up on his endeavours when tanned hands reached down to grab the other end, hoisting it up with ease. Taeyong’s ears flushed red and he kept his gaze down, more than a little embarrassed that he’d needed the help, but he murmured a quiet thanks as they carried it over to the pile. Whoever it was, they had nice hands. Larger than his own and a little calloused, like most of the people in this city, but still pretty. Once they set it down Taeyong let out a huff of relief, his back aching a little. He wiped his hands off on his pants, one coming up to try and rub some warmth back into his nose, then his fingers, and finally, his gaze had shifted up.

Taeyong was sort of embarrassed by the fact it took him a few moments to realise who had helped him, and when he did he couldn’t help the way his lips parted in surprise.

He just— he didn’t even look that different, really, but even yesterday during their first meeting Jongin had been dressed in a warrior’s clothes and he’d looked polished, like something perfect. Perhaps a little ethereal in his good looks. Today he just looked . . . normal, though still painfully handsome. He was dressed in clothes that weren’t too different from the people bustling around them, and _of course_ no one had recognised him because no one even had any clue what he looked like. His silver hair was what had given him away, as well as those kind eyes that seemed more relaxed today, full lips that were curled into what almost looked like a nervous smile. Taeyong felt bad for staring like that, mouth wide like a fish out of water. Jongin rubbed at the back of his neck nervously before clearing his throat.

“Sorry it took us so long, I wanted to bring as many men as I could.”

“No, I— it’s fine. I mean, of course it’s fine, you didn’t even have to come, but I’m sure everyone will really appreciate it,” Taeyong blurted, then internally cursed himself. He probably sounded ungrateful, didn’t he? “Thank you, Your Majesty. This really means so much to everyone. Is Mark here?”

“Of course, he’s just giving the men jobs to do, introducing people. Am I really that bad as company?” Jongin laughed, but it wasn’t a cruel laugh. It was warm and . . . Taeyong would never admit it out loud obviously, but a little bit dorky too, the sort of laugh that made you smile even if you didn’t want to.

“No, I mean, of course not, I just didn’t think you’d be staying, Your Majesty—“

“Jongin, please.” Taeyong had hesitated at that but the ki— _Jongin_ looked so impossibly earnest, and he couldn’t bring himself to say no; besides, who could deny a king’s request?

“Jongin, then.” That got him another one of those friendly smiles.

“This was . . . _is_ my home, too. I want to help as much as I can,” a pause, “as long as you think people won’t mind?” If you’d told Taeyong even days ago he would’ve had the guts to laugh in front of a king, he would’ve been utterly mortified, but instead there was a warmth in his chest as a chuckle spilt from his lips. His eyes creased as he shook his head and tipped his chin down.

“ _Mind_? No, I don’t think the people will mind. You being here, it’ll do more than just your men ever could—“

“ _Kim Jongin!_ ” A familiar voice called and Taeyong’s eyes snapped up just in time to see the man from that first night, Ten, stomping over towards them. He looked less than pleased. His clothes were considerably more luxurious than Jongin’s and he had a feeling they were probably from the castle, the shirt a thick, black velvet which was probably worth more than everything he possessed, unbuttoned to show a sliver of his chest. People may not have known what Jongin _looked like_ , but they knew that _name_ , and they recognised Ten well enough from the battle that heads started turning, excited whispers filling the air as they realised that the king was amongst them. Gods, Taeyong sort of wanted to melt into the ground — people had already been talking because he’d been seen leaving the castle, because of Mark, but now that he’d been seen talking with the king? _Laughing?_ Taeyong was a no one, really, but he doubted he’d be of any help convincing the people to trust their new king anymore. Those who weren’t impressed would likely see him as a sell-out. One thing that he’d learnt was that you could never truly please everyone.

“Did Mark convince you to come down here?” Ten hissed, glancing around as he spoke. Jongin almost looked sheepish.

“No, I was the one who wanted to help, he just helped to sneak me past you— but it was _my_ idea.”

“You need to be careful, Jongin, we don’t know these people. What if something had happene—“ Jongin cut him off by squeezing his hand, smiling softly.

“I appreciate it, Ten, and I know you worry, but I’ll be fine. Even if something _did_ happen I can defend myself, right? And Mark’s only a street over.” That seemed to placate the shorter male and Taeyong couldn’t help the way that his eyes flickered between them — Mark had told him that they’d all been travelling together for years, but they seemed . . . close. Then again, he’d thought Jongin had seemed close with the other one, the one that’d made Taeyong feel so jittery yesterday. Taemin. They’d all been friends for a long time, he supposed. Ten snorted and rolled his eyes before pulling his hand back.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I just don’t want to have to find a new king,” he hummed, though even Taeyong could see past that. Mark was lucky to have people like this in his life.

“You’ll be stuck with me for a while yet, Ten. I’m going to go walk around, help out — why don’t you stay and make sure that Taeyong takes a break—“ Taeyong opened his mouth to protest, but Jongin just smiled “—since he’s been working for hours. I’ll find you later.” In a way, he’d expected Ten to disagree, or at least to seem annoyed with the idea of being a glorified babysitter, but instead, the other male nodded and shoved Jongin along like he was, well, a friend rather than a king.

Taeyong just sort of stood there silently for a moment, unsure of what he was supposed to say or do, but Ten didn’t seem too fussed, looking around the destruction with an expression he couldn’t place. He certainly wasn’t easy to read. “Thank you,” he finally spoke up, taking the initiative to start walking towards the area they’d set up the supplies; he tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to warm numb fingers against his thighs. At least the breeze had died down. “For the other night when you helped me. Whatever you did . . . it made me feel much better.” That at least made the other male’s lips twitch as he fell in step with him, seemingly impervious to all the looks he was getting. Magic was a touchy subject here — anyone around Taeyong’s age or younger had essentially grown up scared of it, given the laws, and those who were older could be biased regardless. Either way, they all knew of the man who’d been flitting around the city through the shadows, and there were mixed opinions regardless of the good he’d done. Ten didn’t seem to care about the attention. Maybe he was just used to it.

“I didn’t want to have to nurse you for days,” the shorter male mused as though it was that simple, grabbing water from the pile and holding it out. When Taeyong took it, it wasn’t as icy as he’d expected. Oh. Even so, he only paused for a moment before taking a sip, and he couldn’t deny that it was a much better temperature, still refreshing but not as jarring. If he was being honest he had no idea what he was doing and he didn’t feel the most comfortable around Ten — it wasn’t the other male’s fault, he’d always just been reserved, learnt to keep quiet, and Ten was something different. He didn’t know how to act around different. Then there was what’d happened the other night, what Ten had told him. Magic . . . gods, he didn’t know where to start. There was a silence between them for a few minutes, the kind that was a little awkward but not the most unpleasant, and Taeyong took the time to, well, just try and think he supposed.

“Could I fix things?” Taeyong asked, his dark eyes focused on some of the piles that’d once been houses. It felt like a valid question — he hadn’t expected it to cause the other male to start laughing. He ducked his head down a little more, embarrassed.

“No, you’re not strong enough and you have no idea what you’re doing,” Ten snorted, obviously rather amused as he leant back against a large wooden beam, watching him closely. “It’d kill you.”

“Oh,” he mumbled. Taeyong didn’t understand how any of this worked and every word that left his mouth seemed to be wrong these days. “Could . . . uh, could you?” That at least seemed to sober Ten a little, but somehow it wasn’t the most reassuring expression. He couldn’t quite place it.

“I could,” the shorter male admitted, brushing some of his fringe back into place and turning his gaze to the people working around them. Taeyong couldn’t help the way he got a little excited at the prospect. “I could probably rebuild one, maybe two — a few more if I was at full strength.” Taeyong opened his mouth, but the other held a finger up and shushed him. “But that's, what? Maybe five homes? Five families I could help? That's five out of hundreds, Taeyong. Are you going to choose which ones deserve it most?” Okay, so maybe that shut him up. The more Ten spoke the more he was beginning to understand, and he was realising that what he’d at first taken as a reluctance to help was far from it, but more so a reluctance because of what it could cause. People here didn’t understand magic. Gods, Taeyong didn’t either. If they were to do it, to start rebuilding homes, there’d be no way to do so like this without causing even more problems — if they chose, people would argue. If it was a lottery, people wouldn’t listen.

People would blame Ten for not helping them despite the fact he’d already be doing more than anyone ever could.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it like that,” Taeyong admitted softly, staring for a moment before offering up the water. They’d both been out here for a while.

“People never do,” Ten murmured before taking a long sip after he spoke. “All magic has a price, Taeyong — what you experienced was only a taste. You’ll do well to remember that.” The shorter male pushed himself up, brushing the dust off his clothes before handing back the makeshift bottle; Taeyong couldn’t help but stare as his eyes fluttered a little, head moving almost like with the breeze before he hummed and they opened. Whatever he’d been searching for, it seemed he’d found it. “If you want to learn, come find me some time. Sooner rather than later, because once it starts you can’t just ignore it. Even if you want to.” The other slid his hands into his pockets, offered a half-smile and moved to head off and leave Taeyong standing there in the rubble alone.

“Ten?”

“Yes, Taeyong?”

“Is there anyone who could? Help things, I mean?”

“I . . . ah, Taemin, maybe.” A laugh. “But Taemin doesn’t do favours, sweet cheeks, _he makes bargains_.” Taeyong didn’t register that perhaps that sounded more like a warning than a suggestion.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong comes to some realisations, has some interesting interactions, and then he tries to make a deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all so much for the amazing response this has been receiving - I honestly never thought anyone would be interested in this story so it means a lot. This chapter is the start of things starting to get more interesting, but I also felt like I should probably add a minor warning: there is nothing non consensual in this chapter, even though it may seem like it at first, and there's nothing sexual either (yet lmao).

Taeyong had realised three things over the past week:

One, he had magic in him somehow, and it was something he could no longer ignore. It wasn’t exactly something he wanted to admit but Ten had been right and he felt like the more he tried to pretend it’d never happened the more he noticed little things that made it impossibly difficult. It was making him second guess everything he’d ever known. The real turning point had been just the other night when he’d been boiling some water, table set up to brew some tea that he could take back to a family that’d come down with a minor cold — it hadn’t been anything serious to worry about, but prevention was a better treatment than anything. It’d been a simple accident, the way he’d placed the pot back down on the stove wrong; it’d become unbalanced, and by the time he’d realised it was falling towards him he hadn’t had a chance to stop it. All Taeyong had been able to do was brace himself for the pain, but the water that’d hit him had been lukewarm at best, even though the steam that filled the room showed just how hot it’d been. He would’ve liked to think it a coincidence, but he’d developed a headache afterwards that had been far too familiar.

Two, Mark’s friends were definitely intimidating, but he . . . well, he sort of really liked them. They were all such distinct personalities, personalities that you’d think wouldn’t work together in the slightest, but they all seemed so aware of each other, synced in a way you’d expect from a lifetime together. Taeyong couldn’t visit the castle every day, and not for long, but occasionally he’d catch them around the city, and when he did pay it a visit he’d often run into someone. Lucas was probably the easiest to get along with, and the first he’d been quick to call a friend, but then again he felt like it was sort of impossible not to like the guy. He seemed to be from a far away place, because there was an accent to his words Taeyong didn’t know — then again, he’d never left the city. Either way, he was always patient when the other struggled with his words. Ten was, uh, something, but he wasn’t as cold as he’d initially seemed, and his presence was something that he’d grown to enjoy even if Taeyong always felt like the other was waiting for something. Jongin, he’d realised, was incredibly down to earth and humble, far from what he’d ever expected; he was also dangerously attractive, something that he especially had trouble ignoring when he’d stumble across Lucas and the king sparring in the courtyard. Men and shirts. Baekhyun was still a bit unknown to him, because there was something unsettling in his gaze at times that made Taeyong nervous, but he saw the way he doted on everyone, the way he’d make sure Mark had eaten or that Lucas patched up a cut he’d gotten on his finger. His jokes were admittedly really good. Taemin, well, he was still an enigma — Taeyong had only seen a glimpse of him once, their eyes meeting across the room for just a second before the other had slipped off.

Three, despite all their efforts and the progress they were already making, Taeyong knew that it could be better. If everyone had been healthy, maybe it would’ve been different — the help from the castle and from the allies that Jongin was somehow already roping in (he’d heard Baekhyun remark one morning that it was probably due to their little wanderer, which apparently meant Taemin?) definitely helped, but at this rate they’d be rebuilding for at least a year. Even now that they were being fed well and could afford to survive, it wasn’t easy work. A lot of manual labour. Taeyong was doing all he could to help, but when he’d lay amongst his rugs late at night he’d find himself thinking back to what Ten had told him that day in the square, about Taemin. That if there was anyone who could do what he’d theorised that it’d be him, which, well, that meant he had to be incredibly powerful, right? Because Ten seemed strong, but he’d said that he could only do a few on a good way — which he supposed made sense given how, when he thought about it, it’d probably be rather hard.

Taeyong wasn’t sure how he felt about asking a man he barely knew from help, especially when it was to do with magic, something he was still a long way from understanding in the slightest. Taemin didn’t do favours, apparently, but that was fine. He’d just have to try and find out what he could do to make it a fair trade. Right? Because even if the idea of approaching him was rather nerve-racking after that first day when he’d been able to feel eyes burning into him he couldn’t just stand back and do nothing when he knew there was a chance to help his people. He didn’t owe it to anyone, it wasn’t about that, just . . . about being a good person, maybe. About convincing himself that having magic didn’t change who he was inside. Besides, anyone who was friends with Mark couldn’t be that bad, even if they’d avoided him at every turn.

—

“You’ve been staring for an awfully long time, you know?” An amused voice spoke up from beside him, making Taeyong jump a little. He couldn’t help but flush a little, if just because he’d been caught out so blatantly, but the laughter that followed wasn’t cruel by any means, nor was the arm that slung around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, kid, I get it — they’re nice to oggle,” Baekhyun laughed, his eyes squishing up as he smiled. Without those intense pigments he always had smeared around his eyes he looked much more approachable, more friendly perhaps? He wasn’t sure how to explain it. 

“I, uh, I wasn’t oggling, I just— I was bringing up the census Jong— uh, his majesty asked for,” Taeyong corrected, but there was just more laughter and he knew he’d been caught out. It wasn’t like he’d planned it, okay? He’d been looking for Jongin, and he’d learnt over the last week that this courtyard was often a good place to find him if he wasn’t busy with kingdom things. He was a magnificent fighter, and watching him train was incredibly interesting. Especially when Lucas or Mark, sometimes both like now, would often end up joining him. Taeyong had planned to wait till a break so that he didn’t interrupt them at all, but they’d been drinking and playing around flicking water at each other for a good five minutes and he still hadn’t made his presence known.

His mouth was sort of dry at this point.

“Sure, and I was just waiting to towel them off,” the elder mused, eyes sparking with something sharp. Taeyong couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “They’re probably done for the day anyway, their shift starts soon.”

“Are you going to spar with his majesty, then?”

"Me? Train with Jongin?” The snort that followed seemed to finally be enough to get everyone’s attention, and Taeyong watched as the dark haired male pulled back, a dangerous smirk on his lips. “I’d put him on his ass within a second — but if you wanted to see me with my shirt off too, you could’ve just asked.” The wink that followed left him dumbfounded, staring with slightly parted lips as the other strode off, letting out a rather suggestive whistle as Lucas wiped the water off himself with his discarded shirt. Lucas just grinned.

“Hyung hasn’t been bothering you, has he?” Mark spoke up all of a sudden from beside him, and Taeyong tried to force himself not look down to the way his shirt was clinging to him like a second skin, throat bobbing. “I can say something if you want, he doesn’t know when to stop sometimes—“

“No. I mean, no, it’s fine Mark,” he reassured, managing a smile despite the fact his mind was racing. Jongin found his way over to where they were standing in the shade of an open corridor, a shirt hanging loosely around his shoulders as he set a hand on one of Mark’s shoulders, lightly squeezing and glancing over to see what was going on.

“What’s fine?”

“Everything,” Taeyong answered with a smile, eyes watching as a small droplet of sweat traversed over his cheek, following the hollows of his jaw before sliding down to his neck. “I finally got everything done for the census and thought I’d bring it up right away for you — I tried to organise it as best I could, but it might need to be rewritten, mine isn’t the best.” His mother had taught him the basics as a child and the rest he’d picked up, but nothing was close enough to being good enough for anything official. He was still a commoner, after all. The only reason he’d ever been able to keep practicing was because of his book keeping at the apothecary, and all the labelling; tedious work, but he was grateful for it.

“I’m sure it’s perfect, Yong. Thank you,” the king beamed at him, and gods, Taeyong felt like he was melting. _Yong_.

— 

Taeyong had originally planned to do this tomorrow, after his first lesson with Ten, but the other had warned him that he might feel like shit afterwords — his words exactly — so when he’d seen a glimpse of ashen blond hair in the hall he’d figured there was no better time than now. 

Mark had insisted that he stay for dinner, and whilst he should’ve expected it he’d still been surprised to find everyone, save for the man he’d been looking for, sitting down at the table to eat. It’d been, uh, eventful, but in a good way. Very loud. Taeyong supposed he just wasn’t used to it, the noise or the company or talking to people as he ate, but by the end he found that he’d enjoyed it. A lot, actually. Perhaps the funniest bit had been to watch the way that at one point Lucas had complained his hands were sore from working and how the people on each side, Ten and Baekhyun, had instantly moved to feed him off their own forks. He’d ended up with a ridiculously large mouthful of food, but afterwards all his food had been at least cut up for him — hell, Ten had even wiped his mouth, mumbling that he was like an incompetent child, getting his food everywhere. Jongin had laughed that laugh, the one he’d noticed in the square, and it’d made Taeyong laugh too, leaning against Mark for support as playful arguments and whining broke out at the table.

That feeling of content had been replaced by nerves as he found himself standing in front of a doorway. It was just a normal door, nothing ominous about it in the slightest — hell, the trims were even floral. Just . . . Taeyong was nervous about this, about not just asking Taemin for help, but talking to him in general, because there was something about the other male that had left him unsettled from the start. Something familiar, he wanted to say, but that was ridiculous. He’d stood there for a good five minutes, hand raising up to knock before it’d hesitate, drop back down. He’d almost walked off twice. Finally, by some miracle, Taeyong managed to rap his knuckles across the wooden door; before he could even finish the door was opening, wide shoulders and a lean body filling the doorway and leaning into the door jam. All he could do was stare for a moment, taking in the ruffled hair and the shirt hanging off his shoulders, a luxurious red material which was completely open and doing little to conceal his chest or stomach. Oh.

“I—“

“I was almost starting to think you were going to walk away again,” Taemin hummed, voice smooth like velvet as he watched him, those eyes so intense and captivating that Taeyong was finding it impossible to tear his gaze away even though he was feeling a little embarrassed. Oddly exposed, too. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d seek me out — to what do I owe the pleasure?” It took the smaller male a moment to find his voice, but he surprised even himself with how even it was.

“Ten told me that you made bargains?” That even mask shifted to something a little darker, eyes focused intently on him and a wicked little smirk pulling at Taemin’s lips which shouldn’t have seemed as foreboding as it was.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, he did — he told me you’d be strong enough to do something that I want done, but that you’d want something in return.”

“Come in, then,” the elder mused, smiling as he stepped back out of the doorway to let him inside. Taeyong was proud of the way he didn’t visibly hesitate, moving past the other and into the room, glancing around in an effort to calm the erratic breathing of his heart. Gods, this was Taemin’s room? It was what he’d imagine a king’s quarters would look like, with an enormous bed filled with the most lavish rugs and materials he’d ever seen. It had to be the royal suite, right? This room alone was bigger than the entirety of his shop, and there were numerous doorways leading to rooms he couldn’t see but figured were just as luxurious as this one. The curtains even looked expensive, trimmed with gold material that shimmered in the light. If this _was_ the royal suite, then why wasn’t Jongin staying in here? Taeyong couldn’t imagine that there’d be quarters even more incredible than this, but then again he supposed that he’d never actually seen a king’s room anyway, or anything of this sort. He was clueless when it came to the finer things in life.

Either way, he couldn’t deny that it felt like he’d wandered into a lion’s den. Taeyong only looked for a moment longer before he turned around to face the older male, noting that he’d closed the door. Okay, he could do this. “What do you desire, Taeyong?” Taemin spoke, strolling over to stand in front of him, every ounce of his attention focused on him in a way that had his stomach curling.

“I asked Ten about helping to rebuild houses in the city,” he admitted, feeling a little dazed as he stared into the other’s eyes. There was . . . something about his eyes, something he couldn’t put his fingers on. “He said that I couldn’t do it, and that he could maybe do a few, but that wouldn’t be fair and I don’t want him to hurt himself. Ten told me that you don’t do favours,” Taemin chuckled at that, “but that you do bargains, and that maybe you’d be strong enough to help out?”

“I can do that.” He said it so casually, like it was really just that simple — like helping to rebuild a city was as easy as a snap of his fingers. Gods, maybe it was, and that sort of scared Taeyong a little, but no one could deny that it was also incredibly impressive if it was true. He couldn’t help but to wonder just how strong Taemin really was.

“Really? I mean, that’s great, of course, everyone’s going to be so happy.” Taeyong couldn’t help the way that a smile pulled at his lips, something warm and genuine, because that joy that bubbled up inside him wasn’t something that he could just ignore. “Thank you so much, Taemin, it really means so much.” The other seemed to fall silent for a moment before he huffed under his breath, like he found something humorous — those warm brown hues trailed over his face.

“Don’t you want to know my price before you agree, Taeyong?” Something about the way the elder said his name had his knees weak, pulse hammering like he was being stared down by, well, some sort of predator as he stood there. It was easy to tell himself that it’d be fine, because Mark wouldn’t be friends with someone who was bad in any way — then again, he hadn’t really seen the pair interact, he’d just assumed based on the stories his friend had told him. The Taemin he’d heard about had sounded more laid back than the one he was currently experiencing.

“What do you want in return?” Taeyong asked quietly, trying to swallow his nerves. He wanted to look away more than anything, to recoil from the other’s gaze and hide, but he felt like he couldn’t move a muscle, enraptured even as the other stepped a little closer, close enough that if either of them stepped in they’d be touching. It was close, too close, but part of him whispered that it wasn’t close enough. It whispered for him to move forward, to reach out. Taeyong forced it down, instead focusing on Taemin’s gaze, how relaxed he seemed as those eyes trailed over his jaw, his shoulders, his /body/. It was the last thing that Taeyong could’ve ever expected, but he wasn’t a fool — he’d seen that look before, albeit usually far more lecherous, and on instinct his body seized, something guarded flashing across his face as he leant back. “Don’t be like that, you were the one who asked me what I wanted.”

“Do you make a habit of blackmailing people into your bed?” Taeyong was always rather soft spoken, the last to ever start a fight or even raise his voice, but there was something sharp and distrusting in his tone. Angry, even.

“If I was blackmailing you, you wouldn’t know,” the other chided, but he moved in to close the gap Taeyong had made like he was so sure of himself. At least he seemed to be smart enough not to reach out at all. “But no, I don’t. Don’t you think I can feel it? I could hear your heart racing before you even knocked on my door, little mouse, and even now . . .” he trailed off, head cocking like he was listening. “I think we both know there isn’t much fear in there, is there? I can feel your desire pulsing in the air around you — you _reek_ of it.” Those last few words tapered into a whisper, spoken mere inches from his ear, and gods, Taeyong felt like he couldn’t even open his mouth, tongue unresponsive and useless. He wanted to be _scared_ , to be _something_ , but anything negative he felt was outweighed by something else he couldn’t explain; lust, yes, but more. A pull unlike anything he’d ever experienced. “I wouldn’t ask if you didn’t want me, though I’ll admit, I should’ve been more delicate about the matter.”

“You’ll help?” Taeyong breathed out, eyes fluttering as his eyes half focused on the material of the other’s shirt. It looked so soft and he just wanted to run his fingers all over it.

“Of course. A deal is a deal.”

Taeyong’s eyes closed completely and he relaxed, letting those waves wash over him; it was a sensation unlike anything other — _an experience_. He couldn’t see, but he could hear Taemin move around him, heard the rustle of his clothes rather than his footsteps on the ground. He could smell him, a smell that should’ve been unpleasant and acrid but instead swept over his senses with a warmth and depth that washed away his worries. He could feel him, his . . . his energy. It was so potent that it left a trail in the air around him, like an imprint in the fabric of the world that was so distinguishable from everything else. Not just his energy but his hands, running gently down his arms, his breath washing over the nape of his neck before he circled back to stand in front of him, breath mingling with his own.

For a second, Taeyong felt like he was somewhere else. Like he was dreaming.

_/Who are you, hmm?/_

Taeyong let out a soft sigh, barely even audible as he felt the other lean closer. It was instinct to lean into that large hand that settled on his cheek, almost nuzzling into warm skin. He felt so warm, so safe — he felt like he was _home_. “Open your eyes, Taeyong.” It felt like he was struggling to wake from a deep sleep, like his eyelids weighed more than they should’ve, but eventually his eyes did languidly flutter open, focusing on the face mere inches from his own. Taemin’s eyes seemed almost luminescent, a glow that wasn’t just from the light of the room, and his pupils seemed to shimmer, still rather round but perhaps narrower than they should’ve been. Taeyong felt so dazed that he couldn’t even register it, instead enjoying the fingers caressing his cheek, the way that he felt like he could taste the other with how close they were. There was a split second, no matter how brief, where they’d stared into each other’s eyes and their lips had just barely grazed. Something had snapped into place.

As quickly as it happened it was gone, including the hand on his cheek, and Taeyong felt so lost, so cold. “Go, Taeyong.” All he could do was let out a confused little noise, the world swimming as he tried to grasp onto something — perhaps not physically, but mentally. He felt like he was falling.

“But the city—“

“ _Go_.”

Taeyong found himself walking back towards the door, feet moving on autopilot, but he couldn’t move past the doorway, chest aching like something was tightening inside him. He’d failed. He’d tried, but it hadn’t been enough, and he wasn’t sure why, but part of him screamed that it was because Taemin could see it, whatever it was inside him. Somehow he managed to push past it, to take that step out into the hall, but he didn’t hear the door behind him close. He just . . . well, all of a sudden there was a peaceful nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't have a beta, so I apologise for any mistakes
> 
> Also, would anyone be interested in me posting other works in this series that fit within the main plot but just didn't feel right to include or were cut out? They'd be for numerous pairings and there'd probably be a decent amount of nsfw. 
> 
> I also considered linking some photos to the looks I see the characters having, just in case descriptions haven't been clear. If so, let me know :)


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong finally starts learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself to slow down but I still have so many chapter pre written and seeing everyone's comments and theories, well, I just can't help myself. Even as I'm uploading this I've finished writing part ten and I'm screaming because I'm like, boy oh boy, just you guys wait. This is a shorter chapter, at least compared to some of the ones I've written lately.
> 
> Tysm for humouring me lmao

Taeyong woke up in a bed that was softer than anything he’d ever felt in his life. In hindsight, that wasn’t really much of a feat given how he’d grown up, but the socks that Lucas had gifted him last week from somewhere around the castle had been so incredibly soft that he’d barely worn them for fear of ruining the precious material. It’d taken him a few minutes to realise that this wasn’t a dream, but it was too perfect to be one — he’d never had pleasant dreams, not really. The rugs around him were soft against his skin, the pillow under his head a far cry from the lumpy excuse he had at home, and the _mattress_ , gods, it felt like he was floating on a cloud. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d laid there for just a couple of minutes to savour it all before he’d finally wiped at his eyes and forced himself to sit up in the mass of blankets. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten here, or . . . where here was. It took more effort than he’d like to admit to remember last night, how he’d gone to Taemin with the hope of making a bargain, only to be turned away. After that, there was nothing.

One thing was for sure, this wasn’t Taemin’s room, or at least it wasn’t the one he’d seen last night — it was much smaller, but still very beautiful even if it didn’t seemed very lived in. A spare room, maybe? Even so, that certainly didn’t answer the question of how he’d gotten here, though the light streaming through the curtains suggested he’d somehow slept through the night in here. All his clothes were still in place as he pushed himself off the bed, letting out a soft little sigh when his toes curled into the carpet beneath. He couldn’t help but to wiggle them around a little, eyes fluttering before he stood properly. His stomach was howling with protest and it was cramping enough to be straddling the border between uncomfortable and painful; Taeyong was used to not eating, and he’d had a rather large dinner last night so he couldn’t figure out why he was so damn hungry.

He found his shoes by the edge of the bed and slid them on, glancing around one last time before heading over towards the door on the far side of the room. Taeyong found himself pausing when he caught a flash of something as he passed— a reflection. His own. His eyes widened a little and he took a tentative step backwards, breath hitching as he looked into the smooth surface, his own face staring back at him. He hadn’t really seen what he looked like in a long time, mirrors weren’t exactly easy to come by and plain glass was far from opaque like this. Oh. His cheeks were fuller than he’d expected, but he supposed he’d been eating a lot more than he used to — his skin had a healthy shine and his lips weren’t dry and cracked like they always had been, even his hair looked healthier rather than dull and lifeless. What really caught his eye was the white. There was a thin streak of it through his fringe that he’d never noticed before, which was odd in itself, but when he leant in closer and moved his hair around he could see little strands scattered throughout, as well as a distinct growth at his roots where all of the hairs seemed to be coming through much paler. Barely noticeable unless you looked up close, but it made his heart speed up regardless. Gods, what the hell was happening to him?

Taeyong was confused, hungry, and to be honest he felt a little sick as he headed out of the room and closed the door behind him quietly. At least this corridor was somewhat familiar to him; he’d been through here a few times on his travels through the castle to find people, and he’d instantly started to his left so that he could head back to where he knew the dining hall was. Part of him wanted answers, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go find Taemin right now, after what the hell that’d been last night. Even thinking about it had goosebumps rising up under his skin, and he couldn’t help the way he shivered a little. Everything felt so . . . intense, today. Like he was experiencing everything for the first time. Answers later, food first.

“Taeyong?” Said male’s eyes shifted up as he walked into the hall, noting a lone figure sitting at the table. Of course, it was light outside and most of them were probably off doing things, but Ten was still eating, picking at some grapes that were hanging from a large fruit basket in the middle of the table. His hair was different, still perfectly styled but now more of a deep wine red than black. “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon— is everything okay?” Ten seemed concerned, but Taeyong couldn’t bring himself to answer at first, just walking over and grabbing the first thing he could see, an apple, before taking a large bite and groaning.

“Were you the one who left the fruit for us that day?” Was what he asked first rather than answering any sort of question, eyes closed.

“Me? No, I wouldn’t waste the energy on so much. No offence.” Taeyong’s eyes opened back up at that again and he took another bite. Ten wouldn’t waste the energy on conjuring so much, huh? Now or then. So who . . . he was starting to feel like maybe he knew the answer, but it raised more questions than it answered, and it made something coil in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. “Taeyong, I said are you okay? You seem off.” The other reached out to set a hand on his shoulder, but instantly his expression became far more serious and he pushed out of his chair, hands settling on Taeyong’s cheeks to make him meet his gaze. “What did you do?” He hissed, but he sounded more concerned than angry. A wave of energy rushed over him and he paused, almost stumbling before he finally stopped ravenously devouring the apple in his hand. Why did he feel so out of it?

“I . . .” he trailed off, brows furrowing just a little. “I tried to get Taemin to help me,” Taeyong finally admitted, and he couldn’t fathom why Ten cursed as he pulled away, rubbing at his temples.

“You’re an idiot— I told you magic has a price, Taeyong! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t . . . it doesn’t matter, anyway. It didn’t work, he kicked me out,” the dark haired male mumbled, finally sitting down and eating again at a more refined pace. “Besides, he didn’t ask for anything, Ten, he just—“

“Taemin is dangerous, Taeyong.”

“But isn’t he your friend?”

“He is, and I love him dearly, but he’s not . . . you know what, listen closely, Taeyong, because your first lesson is going to start. All magic has a price, and to use it you have to pay it — there’s no way around that. When you used magic for the first time, you didn’t have anything to balance the scales, so it took a toll on your body; if you’d done more, it could’ve killed you. Sure, you can build your resistance up so that you can do more with less, but there still has to be an exchange,” he explained, reaching out to snap some grapes off the stem, holding them in one of his outstretched hands. Taeyong was transfixed as he watched the grapes begin to shrivel and go black, like the life was being drained from them — at the same time a small green circle formed in Ten’s palm, growing until it started unfurling and blossoming into a beautiful white rose. By the time it stopped, the grapes were gone completely. “Most of us use the world around us as our source, but Taemin doesn’t gain his power from life, he feeds on _lust_ , Taeyong.” Oh. “So tell me again, what did you do?”

Taeyong couldn’t help the way the tips of his ears burned, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet Ten’s gaze as he spoke. That made sense, and it explained a lot, but it also sort of didn’t. How did that work? Why was Taemin different? How did any of this work, honestly. He had so many questions. “Nothing, really,” and that wasn’t him deflecting, just telling the truth. “I asked him what he wanted in return, and I thought he made it clear he wanted, well, me — but he only touched my arms and face, and we didn’t—“ his ears burned even hotter. “It wasn’t even a kiss, really. Then he told me to leave. I don’t remember much after that, I just woke up in one of the spare rooms.” That seemed to have the other lost for words.

“You’re telling the truth.” It was a statement rather than a question, but it still made Taeyong frown a little.

“Of course I am, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I know, but it . . . it just doesn’t make sense,” the other murmured, “his energy is still all over you, like he’s fed.” Okay, the word ‘fed’ make it sound more sinister than Taeyong liked. Ten sighed, pushing some of his hair back before nudging the basket of fruit closer to Taeyong, encouraging him to eat some more. “Promise me you won’t do it again.”

“I promise, Ten.”

—

Despite the rocky start to his day, things got better. Taeyong had eaten until he felt like he was about to burst, and then Ten had told him to follow him, that he had a lot more to learn since it seemed like he was going to keep getting himself into trouble. Valid. A week ago he would’ve been shitting himself at the idea of spending a whole day in Ten’s company, but he felt like things had come a long way since that first meeting — he was really cool, and nothing like he’d first assumed. Don’t get him wrong, the other definitely had a sharp tongue, but he was kind and patient, even if he didn’t seem to like admitting such things. He’d seen it in the way that he’d tucked Mark’s shirt in the other day, or now, how even after he’d gotten Ten’s explanations mixed up more times than he could count the other still hadn’t raised his voice. 

Ten was also really smart, something he’d been quickly learning since they’d met. Rather than just wandering around aimlessly he seemed to always be doing something. Taeyong had known from his barely-there accent and the story Mark had told him that the other was from somewhere else, but he spoke their language more fluently than he probably could himself, and he knew others, too, like what Lucas’ native tongue seemed to be. He also knew _a lot_ about magic, and Taeyong wasn’t just saying that because in comparison he knew nothing. Ten seemed to be an endless pit of knowledge about, well, everything.

“Are you going to teach me to do magic?” He asked after a few hours.

“Not yet. Now, chamomile,” Ten hummed, holding out one of the little white flowers he’d fished from the pile behind him. They’d ended up in the castles apothecary eventually, because Ten had said it’d be a good place to start, teaching him more about things he already knew and had. It was a little dusty given it hadn’t been used, but Taeyong hadn’t let himself look around. Hadn’t let himself get attached the the big, neat shelves or the generous working spaces the area for patients.

“Chamomile,” he repeated quietly, trying to think back to what Ten had explained. “It’s—medicinally it’s used to promote sleep and calming, either as an incense or tea. Magically . . . purification, right?”

“And?”

“Protection,” Taeyong added instantly, sounding more sure of himself and grinning. “Around the home it’s good for physical and magical protection.” He couldn’t help but feel ridiculously proud of himself for remembering, especially given that he’d been struggling all morning but was excelling now they were talking about things he was somewhat familiar with.

“You forgot one thing, though,” Ten mused, stepping forward and twisting the little flower between his fingers before tucking it behind Taeyong’s ear, lips twitching. “It’s also a lucky flower, meaning you can carry it around for some good fortune, _or_ wear it in the hopes of attracting a lover.” Taeyong could only stare for a moment, eyes trailing over the piercings in the other’s ears and the sharp angle of his eyes, the slope of his cheek and jaw, his lips. He swallowed thickly, smiling again.

“I’ll make sure to remember that next time,” he breathed out, not daring to speak too loud given how close they were. Ten hummed, pushing back that paler section of his hair before patting his shoulder and pulling back completely.

“Be sure to.”

— 

It wasn’t often that sneaking up on Ten was remotely possible, but Lucas had walked past the door and a turned back was too good to ignore. He was surprisingly light on his feet as he crept inside, glancing around the apothecary for a brief second before wrapping his arms around the other firmly, one around his waist with his other hand resting on his stomach, face pressing into his neck as he laughed. Ten always said he had an obnoxious laugh, but there was a softness to the insults he’d grown used to — it was his way of saying he liked it. “Xuxi, what are you doing?” the elder snorted, wriggling in his grip, but he just held him tighter, lips grazing over the side of his throat. “Get off, you giant dog.”

“Woof,” Lucas just chuckled, earning him an elbow to the gut that barely hurt.

“I’m serious, I could’ve spilt things,” Ten mumbled, and when Lucas looked over his shoulder he realised that, yeah, he probably should’ve been a little more careful. Usually he wouldn’t disturb the other while he was working, but they’d all been so busy lately that he was feeling a little lonely. At least he and Mark usually saw each other in the city, and sometimes he’d drop by Taeyong’s store on patrol just to say hello. He was in a good mood today, though, and it all had to do with the fact Baekhyun had given him a _look_ over breakfast. His mouth was still a little swollen, but barely noticeable. Well, that and the fact there’d been an amazing surprise this morning.

“I can’t help it, I miss your pretty—“

“Lucas?” Oh. Lucas blinked once, then twice, and then he grinned, pulling away from Ten like it was nothing and leaning against the table as Taeyong padded over from behind some shelves with an assortment of jars. He didn’t seem to have heard anything, but he couldn’t see how it would’ve been a big deal anyway. He felt Ten kick him under the table. “It’s good to see you, Ten’s just been teaching me, you know, things.”

“You’re allowed to say magic, Yongie,” Ten snorted, but his tone was rather soft, like he understood his worries.

“Yongie? That’s so cute,” Lucas gushed, earning a light slap on his shoulder that didn’t even sway him. “Did you hear about the city?”

“What do you mean?” Ten asked, and he just barely noticed the tightness that was laced in his words.

“It’s so weird, we went down this morning and everyone was . . . uh, mad? No, that’s not the word for it. Good mad. Crazy? Everyone was crazy. All the streets were cleared and the houses we’ve been trying to fix are all done, even the ones that were destroyed — wait, so it wasn’t you?” Ten’s grip had tightened around the edge of the table, and he was staring at Taeyong intently with something he couldn’t place.

“No, Lucas, it wasn’t me.”

“Oh. I guess it Taemin-hyung then. How weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong and Ten try a new method of harnessing his power and Taeyong forms closer bonds with one of his companions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the longest chapter so far, clocking in at 5,400 words. Damn. 
> 
> Reading everyone's comments is so fun and I'm so excited to see everyone's reactions each time, especially given the stuff I've got pre-written and ready to upload. I can't thank you guys enough for all the love, it'd been so incredible and reading your comments has been the highlight of my day, especially after the last chapter! I know things might be confusing soon (this chapter probably doesn't help), but I promise it'll all start to come together soon
> 
> There'll be a lot more character building in upcoming chapters, and lore that'll explain a lot of what you've seen so far. As much as I'm dying to just let you all know now, I think it's much more fun learning with Taeyong.
> 
> I've never written for any of these characters or fandoms before, so I really do hope I've been doing well with characterisation - I know I've taken some liberties based on the plot, especially with age and such.

Taeyong wasn’t used to revelations, but he seemed to be having a hell of a lot of them lately, like the fact that it seemed some of Mark’s friends were closer than he’d first assumed, or the fact that, for someunknown reason, Taemin had held up his end of the bargain. Nor he or Ten had been able to make any sense of it, and he couldn’t deny that he’d been a little worried about what it might mean; part of him wanted to talk about how it’d all made him feel, ask if that was to do with his magic, but it felt . . . private, he supposed. Personal. Ten had just reassured him that it’d be fine. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, Yongie, you just focus on practicing.”

He was trying, he really was, but this wasn’t easy. Admittedly things had been a little different after that night when he’d visited Taemin but he hadn’t seen hair nor hide of the elder for the last week and a half so it wasn’t like he could just ask him, or thank him for what he’d done. He felt like it was important to let Taemin know what a positive effect he’d had, because the people of the city didn’t know who’d done it, but it’d swayed them towards a better appreciation for magic. That was something Taeyong, too, was grateful for. He could feel the energy Ten spoke about during their lessons — the way that every living thing had a sort of buzz, a source he could draw on. He just hadn’t been able to put it to good use. Taeyong had spent hours staring at a bundle of flowers, trying desperately to draw that energy into himself, to transform it into something else.

Nothing.

He’d tried everything that Ten had suggested so far, and frankly Taeyong had no idea how the other hadn’t given up on him yet. He sure as hell didn’t feel special. Taeyong’s work kept him busy though, not just the apothecary but errands he’d been running for Jongin; it hadn’t been intentional by any means but he saw the king often and people seemed to have noticed his trips to the castle. He’d somehow ended up as a middle man, delivering or requesting supplies. Some days he’d walk around the city and take in how it was thriving, especially now they’d been opened up for trade in the first time for over a decade, and more often than not he’d end up with someone at his side, whether it was Mark or Lucas who was on duty, sometimes both, or sometimes Baekhyun who seemed to enjoy wandering around. All of the women adored him, and Taeyong couldn’t blame them — he was extremely charming. And smooth, very smooth. His flirting still managed to catch him off guard sometimes, though Taeyong had realised rather quickly that he was like that with, well, all of them. It’d be rarer that Jongin would be his companion, but the king coming down from his castle to mingle amongst the commoners had happened enough by that point that people were starting to get (somewhat) used to it. Those were the only times Ten would also come out, always right by Jongin’s side, always watching like he was ready to step in at any time.

“We’re all here because we have faith in Jongin,” Ten had explained one day as Taeyong wrote down the uses for yarrow — they’d been talking a lot about psychic magic that day. “Without him, we’d be nothing. He’s too trusting, too kind, even after everything he’s endured; he needs us to watch out for him.”

“I think he’s really lucky to have friends like you.” That’d earned him a smile.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out why Ten rarely left the city walls — magic. People were starting to come around after the magnificent feat that Taemin had pulled off, and hell, some of them probably even thought that might’ve been Ten, but there’d always be people who were hateful. Taeyong hated the idea that the other felt the need to hide away for other people’s comfort but . . . well, that’s exactly what he was doing, wasn’t it? Because he was scared. He’d had the luxury of being ‘normal’ his whole life, and he didn’t want anyone to know he wasn’t. That he was anything more than just another person.

—

A proper bathtub had been a foreign concept to Taeyong since he was a little kid, but even that wooden barrel had been nothing compare to the lavish bathtubs they had in the castle. He’d been hesitant to get in even after Ten had snorted and shoved him towards the open door, claiming he was allowed to use anything, but once he’d seen the steaming water his resolve had weakened. It was probably one of the most calming things he’d ever experienced and he couldn’t count the number of times he’d almost drifted off. Ten had mentioned he’d put some oils in the water, something he’d certainly never tried, and it— wow. The smell was incredible and cleared his head, made him lean back into the warm water until it lapped around his ears and drowned out the world. He’d sort of wanted to stay in there forever.

Taeyong didn’t emerge from it until the water had turned frigid, his skin soft as silk and pruning as he stepped out and into the thick robe Ten had left out. For a moment it felt like he was someone else. Someone _more_.A week ago he never would’ve dreamed of any of this but he supposed it was becoming his new normal, because he’d only hesitated for a few moments before letting himself use the luxurious items that’d been laid out for him. Beautifully scented creams that were like velvet between his fingers as he massaged them into his skin; idly he registered that the scent was similar to the one he’d smelt on Ten. It wasn’t like he’d been smelling the other on purpose at all, he’d just . . . well, when the other had leant in close to point out the line in a book he’d been looking for he’d noticed it. Ten always smelt nice.

“I was starting to think you’d drowned,” said male hummed when he finally emerged in fresh clothes, the cotton of his shirt white and void of any holes for once in his life. “Feel good?”

“Mmm,” was all Taeyong had been able to dignify as a response before a long, drawn out yawn had left his lips, making his eyes water.

“Tired?” Ten had wandered closer, but he couldn’t really focus on it when he felt fingers card through his hair, instantly melting into the touch. He hummed again, and the other just laughed. “Good, that means it’s doing it’s job. Why don’t we get you into bed?” Truthfully, Taeyong had no idea how a bath was supposed to help draw out whatever magic was hiding within him, but Ten had never lead him astray before and he had no reason to doubt him. Besides, it felt so impossibly good.

Usually he never would’ve agreed to sleeping in the castle, in fact he’d always been rather particular about going home each day; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, not by a long shot. For one, there was company there, something his shop couldn’t provide, and the beds were definitely softer here as he’d learnt that night, but he just . . . well, it all seemed too good to be true, and he supposed part of him was scared that this was all just going to disappear — that one morning he’d wake up in his shitty bed and find out all of this had been some terrible, terrible dream.

Maybe it was the fact that everyone Taeyong had ever cared about had left him in one way or another. It was hard to let himself be attached after that, even if his heart didn’t give him much of a say in the matter.

“Your bed is so nice,” Taeyong breathed out, feeling like he was floating as he was tucked into the blankets, rubbing his face against the silky pillowcase beneath him. He hadn’t been able to focus enough to get a good view of the room, but Ten seemed to have lots of expensive things in here. “Smells like you.” Another one of those angelic laughs that made him smile, eyes barely open as he reached out blindly; a hand tangled with his own before another smoothed over his hair affectionately. “I feel all floaty, Tennie. ‘M I supposed to?”

“Get some sleep, Yongie.”

Tayeong closed his eyes.

—

When he opened his eyes, he was standing in the middle of a forest, dark trees bare and a stark contrast against the pale snow that surrounded him. Taeyong just stood there for a moment, staring into the distance before he held up one of his hands palm up, watching as little snowflakes fluttered down and melted on contact with his skin. It looked like it should’ve been colder than it felt considering the flurry of air around him, ruffling his hair, but all that’d settled on his skin was a pleasant chill even through his thin clothing. Taeyong didn’t know where he was, or how he’d gotten here, only that felt . . . well, peaceful. He took another step, foot sinking an inch or so into the powdery snow underfoot before he took another, then another, eyes glancing up to the sky. He wasn’t sure he’d ever realised how slow snow fell before. A pleased little smile curled at Taeyong’s lips and he closed his eyes, focusing on those little bites of cold that occurred as snow hit his face. 

“It seems I can’t escape you even when I’m asleep,” a voice spoke up from behind him, sinking over him like liquid velvet in a way that was far too familiar. For once, Taeyong knew the name attached to the voice.

“Taemin?” Taeyong turned around, and amongst the dark trunks there was another figure that he’d missed upon first glance. He’d blended right in. Rather than feeling scared or confused, he smiled, taking another step forward and starting towards the other. “What are you doing here?” The other male chuckled, but it sounded tired, and the way he held himself was so much more relaxed than he’d seen before. He looked so human.

“I’m a fool,” Taemin spoke, causing Taeyong to cock his head as he stopped in front of the other, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off him. “I should never have accepted your bargain,” he breathed. One hand reached out to cup his cheek and Taeyong melted into it, his own reaching out to settle on the other’s chest. It almost felt like petting a stray cat, the way his chest seemed to rumble under the contact in something akin to a purr. “I thought if I had one taste, that’d be it, but you . . . you’re something else, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Taeyong murmured, leaning forward to rest his head against the other’s chest, eyes staring out at the vast expanse of nothing around them.

“Can’t you feel it, little mouse? The world is shaking.”

—

Taeyong hadn’t been to the castle for three days, and it was killing him, but he— no, he didn’t need to feel guilty, he had every right to be angry. Ten had mentioned that a bath might help relax him, draw something out, but he hadn’t told him about the fact he’d be _drugging him with a mix of magic and medicine_. When he’d woken from his dream he hadn’t remembered much of it, but he’d been sick, shivering and icy to the touch as he’d vomited into a bucket for hours. Mark had been angry on his behalf until he’d been well enough to open his mouth, but even then he’d been swaddled in blankets because his lips were still blue. Like he’d been left out in the snow for hours. It wasn’t even winter yet. 

Taeyong hadn’t felt angry like that in a long, long time, and it . . . it’d all just come out. Yelling at Ten had hurt him, maybe just as much as it’d hurt the other, but he couldn’t help it. Ten had betrayed his trust. If Ten had just told him what he had planned, what it could do, instead of being secretive so he didn’t question it, he probably would’ve agreed anyway. Because Taeyong _had_ trusted him. Being lied to, gods, it’d really hurt him. Maybe as much as whatever they’d done, because even this morning he’d woken up with some of that numbness in his fingertips again which had thankfully faded by breakfast. Side effects.

The most visible effect it’d had was, well, his hair; there’d been white peeking through beforehand, but now it’d crept another inch down his hair, and there were a few more completely white streaks that he simply couldn’t hide anymore. It was why he’d taken to covering it up, either with a cloak or a woollen beanie, tucking it all up. He didn’t want anyone to see.

So no, he hadn’t been to the castle, and at this point it wasn’t even because he was angry but because of the fact he wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed back. They were all Mark’s friends after all, and certainly Ten’s. Yesterday Taeyong had dared ventured from his house to grab some supplies, but he’d hid in an alley for almost half an hour at one point because he’d seen Lucas out on patrol and hadn’t wanted to face him. The day before he’d had Mark knocking on his door, but he’d been too ashamed to answer it. He’d probably overreacted a little, hadn’t he? Maybe he hadn’t needed to yell like that, but he’d just, gods, he’d been so scared; waking up from that dream had felt like he was dying, like he’d needed to claw his way out — like part of him had been desperately trying to stay. He still didn’t quite know what Ten had put in the bath, but he could remember how the other had seemed genuinely concerned and remorseful. He’d just been trying to help, like Taeyong had asked, he’d just . . . gone about it the wrong way. Taeyong felt like an idiot.

Taeyong thought about it over breakfast, and he came to the conclusion that he needed to man up and apologise for his outburst, because it wasn’t like Ten hadn’t automatically apologised or looked after him and made sure he was alright, even after he’d unleashed all that wrath on him. Then again, maybe an apology wouldn’t fix anything. Either way, he knew he needed to at least try, so he’d go and do it, though maybe not until much later. He had some things he needed to prepare.

His little apothecary wasn’t much, but it . . . it’d always been enough before. Taeyong felt guilty for the fact that as he manoeuvred between the shelved and picked out ingredients he couldn’t help but to think back to the one in the castle, the way it was so perfect and bright, the way there was so much room. He’d actually be able to treat patients there. Then again, this place had been in his family for decades. Sure, that meant it had memories attached, but they were bittersweet — Taeyong had been haunted by the ghosts of his past for years, and he saw them in every inch of this store, whether it was memories of his mother working at this very bench or carrying his sister around between the shelves, trying to teach before she’d even been able to talk. It didn’t bring him happiness, no matter how much he’d wished it would. Part of him wished it’d burnt with most of the city.

Taeyong had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even heard the little bell above the door chime to signal a customer, focusing on measuring out a small amount of dried lavender so that he could pour it into the small pouch he had propped up, brows furrowed in concentration. Once he was satisfied he tipped the spoon, humming under his breath as he gathered the cloth and tied the string around it into a tight little bow. This made him happy, far more than the store ever could.

A throat cleared in front of him and Taeyong jumped, dropping the pouch back down onto the counter as his eyes snapped up, widening a little when he realised who it was. Oh. His first instinct was that Jongin was here to scold him for what he’d said to Ten and he couldn’t help the way he averted his gaze and swallowed thickly. “I . . . what can I help you with, your majesty?”

“I was looking for someone to accompany me on a morning stroll.”

“Oh— okay. I mean, I’m sure any of your men would accompany you, but you could probably ask anyone and they’d—“ Taeyong paused. “Oh, you mean me, don’t you?” He wasn’t _that_ stupid. Jongin just laughed, and that laugh always did wonders to lift his mood because even now it made his lips twitch a little despite everything.

“Yes, unless you were busy, of course,” the other amended, and Taeyong had to fight back a big smile. Gods, he couldn’t fathom why Jongin would want his company out of everyone, but he wasn’t going to decline. He . . . well, he liked spending time with Jongin, even if the king was often understandably busy.

“I think I can make some time,” Taeyong murmured, losing the battle with his mouth as his lips curled into a wide grin. “Just let me grab my cloak.”

“Of course, I’ll just wait here.”

Taeyong closed the little door behind him and just barely managed to hold back a rather embarrassing noise, pressing his back against the wood and smiling up at the ceiling. Hell, this was a bad idea, but it wasn’t inappropriate, not really, he was just going for a stroll with a friend. Well, when the friend was a king and he was him it probably was, but he’d already crossed that line. Taeyong grabbed his cloak and pulled it around his shoulders, clasping it in the front and making sure his beanie covered his hair save for a few dark strands that peeked out the side before opening the door again and slipping out.

“That’s poisonous.” He had to fight back a laugh as Jongin fumbled to set the jar back down, eyes wide and innocent as they focused back on him, like a kid caught with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. It’s not poisonous.”

“That’s mean,” the king whined, pouting a little. Taeyong committed that image to memory. “You ready?” At his nod Jongin smiled, holding out his arm. He was confused for a moment before realising the other was waiting for him to take it; Taeyong was proud of the fact that he didn’t trip over his own shoes, holding onto the crook of the other’s elbow as they left the shop, only after he locked up of course. People were used to Jongin walking around by this point, but they still got a few looks as they walked through the city, and unlike how he would’ve a few weeks ago, Taeyong did his best to keep his head high. What did he have to be ashamed of? Nothing they could see, at least.

Jongin was dressed down like he usually was when he came out, free of any sort of crown or crest, but he seemed . . . well, Taeyong wasn’t sure how to explain it. He was clean shaven and his hair was styled a bit more, his clothes slightly more embellished than usual. Jongin was always stunning, but he looked nice today. Always bad for Taeyong’s health.

“I have to admit, I may have twisted the truth,” Jongin spoke up as they reached the city gates, pausing and untangling their arms just so he could turn to face him as a dark horse came into view. “I’m suffering, Taeyong.”

“What?”

“You don’t understand, I’m not used to being so . . . _cooped up_. It’d terrible. I’ve been aching to get out for weeks, but I know if I ask anyone else they’ll tell Ten, or,” the other shuddered, “Baekhyun. You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Taeyong supposed it made sense, given what he’d learnt — Jongin hadn’t lived in the castle, or any place for an extended period of time, practically his whole life. Of course he was going a little stir crazy. At the same time, he understood why everyone would be hesitant to let him just go off galavanting, because he was _King_ Jongin now. They couldn’t be too careful.

Mark seemed to have learnt his puppy dog eyes from Jongin, because only a few seconds of looking into warm brown eyes had Taeyong caving. There was just one problem.

“I can’t ride.” He watched as Jongin stared at him, and then blinked a few times, and then an incredibly fond smile curled across his face. “What?”

“Nothing, you just reminded me of someone is all. That’s okay, we can ride together, that way you won’t fall. You’ll come, right?”

“I . . . as long as you promise I won’t fall.”

“I promise, Yong; here, watch how I get up first, then I’ll help you.”

—

“It’s really beautiful out here, isn’t it?” Taeyong spoke up from where he was seated behind him, those arms wrapped around his waist; he’d been able to feel how tentative the other was at first, but by this point he seemed fairly comfortable, leaning forward against him. Jongin smiled to himself, looking back out at the forest around them as his horse trotted along. 

“It is,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t get a chance to admire it on the way here, but it’s . . . definitely something special. I’ve seen deserts and oceans and everything in-between, but the forest has always been home.” He’d grown up learning to ride in these woods after all, first on his father’s horse as his father helped him hold the reigns and then on his own. He could still remember the games he and his cousins would play, chasing each other around the beaten paths and laughing. Carefree. A lot had changed since then, but the forest had remained the same even after all these years. “Have you ever left the city? I heard it was always on lockdown.” He got a long hum before he got an answer.

“There were alway patrols and guards at the gates,” he heard the other speak. “Guess they didn’t want people sneaking out or trying to find a better life. We were only let out to farm with supervision.”

“Oh.”

“But I used to sneak out anyway,” the younger laughed, and Jongin couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh, really? I find it hard to believe you weren’t a goody two shoes.”

“The things I need rarely grow in the city or on farms, so I’d sneak out at night when they were changing shifts and forage for what I could. If I was lucky I’d be able to find some food too. Other people tried, we were desperate, but I was small. A nobody. It never drew any attention as long as I managed to make my way back before the morning changeover.” Jongin was silent for a moment as he imagined it, the frail, frightened boy he’d met that first day risking death to sneak out at night and venture into a dangerous forest just to be able to bring back medicine for people he owed nothing to. He’d heard stories about Taeyong from a young Mark for years, but when he’d met him in person he’d been . . . unsure. Sickly thin and nervous looking, barely even talking, he’d barely even seemed human at that point. Weak.

Taeyong had proved him wrong.

“You’re too kind for your own good, sometimes.”

They’d both stayed quiet after that until Jongin had settled on a spot and come to a halt, which admittedly he hadn’t mentioned either until he was shuffling to dismount without disturbing the other, reaching up to help the other down. “What are we doing?” Taeyong asked as he hooked his horse’s reigns around a thick branch, and Jongin simply hummed, grabbing his pack off the side before heading into the clearing he’d come across. It was small but filled with wildflowers and noises of the forest, trees swaying gently around them. He looked around for a few moments, treading carefully, before he finally found a decent rock to sit down on and patted the space beside him, a clear invitation to his companion.

“I didn’t want to have to head back right away, so I figured we could have some lunch together.” Truth be told, he hadn’t planned to invite Taeyong when he’d decided to go out today; he’d already tacked up his horse and gotten to the gates before he’d paused. It just . . . well, he didn’t want to go out and explore by himself, so he’d snuck all the way back to the apothecary even if he’d risked getting caught just so he could have Taeyong’s company, and he wasn’t regretting it in the slightest. If Jongin was going to be completely honest the younger male had been on his mind for a while, ever since they’d met really, more so since he’d actually started to see him more. Taeyong’s help had been invaluable in those first two weeks, especially when it came to the city folk. He was sort of indebted to him.

But it was more than that. Taeyong was beautiful, in a way he had trouble explaining — pretty? Sort of, yeah. His hair looked so soft and he had these big doe eyes, and especially at first he’d been so shy which was painfully adorable, but he also had a resilience that Jongin admired. A strength. The kid was kind and attentive but had a fire in him that burned so bright, especially when it came to things he was passionate about; he’d watched from the doorway for maybe half an hour last week as he’d insisted that he keep trying to read the tea leaves that Ten had set out, but it seemed divination wasn’t his forte. As was anything they’d tried so far. Even so, the younger still hadn’t given up despite the fact most people probably would have. Jongin couldn’t help but think he was sort of, well, really hot when he got all frustrated or angry or focused. It was why he’d watched for a few minutes before speaking up this morning.

“I would’ve brought something if I’d known,” the younger hummed as he sat, swinging his legs a little.

“It’s fine, I packed heaps anyway,” Jongin insisted, unwrapping some bread that was still warm from the bakery and handing Taeyong some before fishing out the spread he’d brought, and some water. Lies, he’d grabbed more on the way in the hopes that the other would agree and come with him. They ate in silence for a while, and Jongin hadn’t been able to help the way his eyes flickered over every few moments, unable to really look away. Especially when the other licked his lips every ten seconds to get rid of stray crumbs.

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.” Jongin looked up from where he’d been closing his bag, blinking slowly before he frowned a little. He didn’t like it, the way Taeyong seemed quieter, more unsure of himself.

“Why?”

“Because I . . . you know,” he murmured, picking at a thread on his shirt. “Because I yelled at Ten.” Oh. _Oh_.

“Taeyong . . . we all know Ten means well, but he can be a lot sometimes. I know that better than anyone — hell, I can’t remember the number of times we’ve fought,” Jongin admitted, offering a gentle smile. “He had good intentions, but he still lied, and he hurt you; I’m not going to excuse it. He has been pretty upset over it, though, I don’t think he realised it’d go so bad. I think it’s good it scared him a little, made him realise he needs to communicate more.”

“Why?”

“Ten doesn’t trust people easily, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. That being said, well, he’s warmed up to you more than I thought he would’ve by now, but I think that’s because you’re so special, Yong,” he hummed, watching the other process it before he found himself reaching out, fingers brushing over a stray white lock that’d fallen free from that beanie. “Are you cold?”

“I— no, not cold. My hair has just been . . . I don’t know, honestly. It’s ugly.” Jongin pursed his lips a little before his fingers curled at the edge the fabric, waiting to see if Taeyong would tell him not to, but he didn’t. Ever so carefully he peeled the material off before running his fingers through silky strands, ruffling them into place. There was definitely a lot more white, and this was the first time he realise that the white streak wasn’t natural, just because it’d definitely grown. Huh. “It started the night I did that thing, and it just keeps getting worse. After the other day it’s been really bad.”

“It’s not ugly,” Jongin murmured, brushing his fingers through it again. “I thought it was natural when I met you. The dark hair suits you, but I think the white would, as well; if you really don’t want it I’m sure Ten can change it, he does his all the time, and Baekhyun’s.”

“He’s not angry with me?”

“Ten? Gods, no, he’s not angry with you Taeyong, he’s been pouting around the castle for days,” Jongin chuckled, finally pulling his hand back but not breaking the other’s gaze. “He doesn’t like admitting things, but I think he misses having you around. He’s been so happy trying to help you figure out your magic.” There was silence for a moment as the other looked away, biting at his lip.

“I miss him too. I miss everyone — I’m not used to having friends.”

“Everyone’s missed you too.”

—

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” Jongin asked as they finally stumbled into Taeyong’s shop after the other had fumbled to unlock the door, rubbing his hands over his face to try and warm his nose. The nights were getting longer and colder, but the winter wasn’t quite upon them, not yet at least. “I promise it’s fine.”

“No, I have work to do,” Taeyong laughed, getting a lantern on before turning back around to the other and smiling. His hands were a little numb again, but he could put that down to the cold; he tried to breathe some life back into them as they stared at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter like children. “I had fun Jongin, really. Thank you for inviting me,” he murmured, trying to ignore the stutter in his chest as the silver haired male reached out to take his hands, warming them with his own and breathing heated air over them.

“I had fun too, I . . . maybe next time I could teach you how to ride?” Taeyong couldn’t help but beam at that, nodding, and they sort of just looked at each other for a few seconds, both giddy. They’d sat down and eaten for a while today while they spoke about all sorts of things, but they’d also ridden around for a while, and after Taeyong had gotten over his initial nerves he couldn’t deny he’d enjoyed it. No, not just because he’d gotten to cuddle against the elder’s back.

Sometimes it was so easy to forget that Jongin was a king.

For a split second he almost thought he saw something shift in the other’s gaze — it almost looked he was going to lean in and Taeyong’s heart had instantly gone into overdrive, overwhelmed. He held his breath, but . . . nothing ever came. Jongin just smiled, squeezing his hands one last time before pulling back and taking a step backwards to the door like he didn’t really want to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Taeyong. Sleep well.”

“You too, Jongin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!  
> (trying something new, but I hope you enjoy a short snippet of the next chapter)
> 
> Next time:
> 
> // “I’m not a kid,” the other bit back, and Baekhyun laughing seemed to infuriate him even more — Taeyong lunged forward, and maybe he could’ve hit anyone else, but Baekhyun stepped to the side with an ease honed after years of his craft; he knocked the dagger out of his grip and grabbed the other’s arm, staring into angry eyes and smirking, faces mere inches apart. 
> 
> “I told you to treat it like an extension of you, not a weapon,” he reminded as the other panted and tried to tug away his hand. Baekhyun didn't let go, he just leant in closer, forced the other to meet his gaze and listen. “You’ll get nowhere acting like that. You’re the one who asked me not to hold back.” It was only then he let go, watching as Taeyong pulled his wrist back quickly, frustration evident on his features. //


	9. Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong learns more about one of his companions and tensions start to boil over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm back at it again lmao. I have a fair few chapters pre written (one of them is a behemoth, as in over 8,000) but I'm trying to be patient in posting in case something happens.
> 
> Things start to get more intense next chapter :)

Taeyong had apologised to Ten, but it seemed even now, after a week, the other male was still trying to make up for what’d happened. They’d resumed his lessons with little to no luck but Ten had been going out of his way to help him with everything, to encourage him every time he got downhearted or discouraged. Hell, when he’d offered to go and grab some supplies from the marketplace today the other had insisted he take Lucas, claiming he should, “put those muscles to good use.” Taeyong didn’t mind the help — or company, of course — but he hated to think that Ten hadn’t believed him when he’d said that it was all fine between them. They’d both been a bit out of line. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d really been hurt; the effects had been short term, other than his hair which Ten had offered to fix if he wanted. 

He hadn’t really mentioned the dream, but he could tell the other was dying to ask. Taeyong just . . . gods, he didn’t really know what to say.

Taeyong saw Lucas a lot since he and Mark were usually together, and since he liked to call by the apothecary in the castle which had sort of become a classroom for him, but when he really thought about it they’d never spent time alone together. There was usually always someone as a buffer. Lucas was nice, though, sort of like, uh, a big, overeager puppy that you just couldn’t hate. He had a smile that’d light up a whole room, and his incredibly good looks did nothing to take away from that. Lucas was sort of a double edged sword.

“You look very handsome today, Yongie,” Lucas hummed from beside him, arms carrying the basket he’d brought alone to put everything in; it was light enough that Taeyong could’ve carried it with ease, but the other had insisted. That was the problem with Lucas — he was so earnest, so kind, and sometimes he came out with things that caught Taeyong off guard. A lot of times he could put it down to a mistranslation, but it still made his heart flutter a bit.

“Thank you,” he murmured, flashing the other a small smile as they walked, glad his hair at least covered the way the tips of his ears were burning. “You too, Lucas.” That certainly wasn’t an exaggeration because Lucas was incredibly gorgeous, the sort that you couldn’t help but stare at, which sort of explained why half the women in the city always swooned after the handsome knight they always saw. Even now he could see people staring. Taeyong couldn’t blame them. “You know, you really didn’t have to come— I know Ten is trying to make up for what happened but it’s fine, truly.”

“I wanted to come,” the other answered, grinning. “Besides, it’s fun seeing Ten so, uh, you know. He was really sad when he thought you hated him.” Taeyong’s eyes widened a little at that.

“Me? Hate him? No, no, I could never hate Ten, I was just . . .”

“He knows that too,” Lucas reassured, squeezing his shoulder with his free hand. The taller male had such large hands, it was crazy how much they dwarfed his own, easily spanning over his shoulder without much effort. “Even Ten can get nervous, though. He’s happy you’re back.” Taeyong somehow found that hard to believe given that the man in question was always so confident in everything he did, but, well, he was only human. All humans had doubts. “Just let him go. He likes looking after people he likes.” Taeyong considered it for a second before giving a small nod. He couldn’t deny it wasn’t nice, and as long as Ten knew that he wasn’t angry, well, he didn’t see the harm in letting it happen. Besides, it was nice to have the other’s attention on him so often, to be the recipient of those warm smiles and fleeting touches, the praise.

“Thank you, Lucas.” They walked for a little longer in silence until they reached the marketplace, bustling with life — it was hard to fathom how two months ago it’d been so desolate, yet these days it was filled with travellers and merchants and cloths of every colour. It felt so _energetic_. Taeyong focused on the list he had tucked into his pocket, flitting between stalls and bargaining with the sellers to get the best prices he could before he’d hand over some coins and turn around to put the items in the basket; the entire time Lucas stayed right behind him, often close enough that there shoulders would brush, and it was nice. He’d admit that much. Taeyong had never been used to having company all the time, but it seemed these days he was rarely alone and it made everything all the more bright.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he spoke up as he counted his coin purse again, trying to budget it all in, “I heard Ten call you . . . Xuxi, I think it was? Is it a nickname?” Taeyong glanced back up as the other hummed, a softness in his eyes.

“Sort of. Lucas isn’t my birth name.” Taeyong had sort of figured, but he still cocked his head. “Are you done?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“I’ll tell you on the way back.”

Taeyong liked to think that he was a patient person, but he’d still been waiting as they walked, glancing over every few seconds in the hopes that the other would start talking. Lucas had made it seem so secretive and he was curious, okay? Ten had told him the other week that Ten wasn’t his birth name, but he hadn’t made it seem like a big deal, he’d just offhandedly said it was much easier and that he liked having that choice of what people called him. Lucas seemed almost nervous.

“I was born Wong Yukhei,” the other finally spoke, smiling to himself as they walked the path back up to the castle. It seemed sort of bittersweet, but at the same time Taeyong got a feeling that the name meant something, even if he’d never heard it. “Xuxi is what Ten calls me, it’s just another way to say my name — I go by Lucas now, but it’s nice to hear it sometimes. Reminds me of home.”

“Where is home for you?” Taeyong asked tentatively. Mark had never told him much about Lucas, not like he had some of the others; he’d just said that he was from a far off land.

“A long, long way away, across a big ocean,” Lucas hummed, exaggerating his words a little and turning to face Taeyong a bit better as they walked, basket tucked against his side so his hand could move as he spoke — he was always so animated. “It’s very beautiful there, but I wasn’t happy. It was lonely in Weishin after my mother died, so I followed the first road I came across and never really looked back. I’m very happy here, with all of you, but I . . .”

“You miss it sometimes,” Taeyong finished softly. “It’s home, after all.” That got him a smile.

“Yes, my old home.”

“I’d like to hear more about it sometime . . . Yukhei. Did I say that right?” Taeyong was pretty sure he had butchered the pronunciation more than a little, but even if he did make a fool out of himself it was so worth it to see the way that Lucas’s face lit up with such unadulterated joy.

“Yeah, you did. I think when it’s just us, I’d like it if you called me that.”

“Of course.”

—

“Lucas was grinning like a fool when he came back yesterday,” Baekhyun mused as he handed over a wooden dagger, handle first even though the wood was dull and only risked giving someone a splinter or a bruise with enough force. He couldn’t deny he’d been surprised when Taeyong had come to him of all people to learn to defend himself, but his reasoning had been solid. Mark wouldn’t want to hurt him and neither would Lucas, and Jongin was always busy — besides, the king’s fighting style certainly wouldn’t suit someone like Taeyong. Baekhyun wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt the kid, but he wouldn’t go easy on him. Daggers seemed like a good place to start, small enough for the other to wield without any sort of trouble but still deadly enough if danger arose and Taeyong needed to defend himself. “Any reason you can think of?”

“We had a good time in the marketplace,” Taeyong answered, and Baekhyun didn’t miss that little smile that pulled at the edge of his lips. Cute.

“Just like you had a good time with Jongin in the woods?” He almost felt bad for the way the other’s eyes widened so drastically at that, looking confused and nervous before it shifted to something almost defensive. Oh, _that_ was new.

“We just went for a ride, he said he was feeling cooped up here and wanted to explore. How did you know, anyway?” Baekhyun watched as the other tested the weight of the toy dagger in his hand; it was painfully obvious he had no idea what to do with it, which was why he stepped forward to adjust his grip, gently moving fingers into place with his own.

“I know everything that goes on in this castle,” was all Baekhyun answered, taking a step back and reaching for one of the mock daggers rather than one of his own. It was a little too light, too clunky, and it certainly didn’t melt into his palm like the grip of his own blades did, but it’d do for now. He twirled it over in his fingers, maybe showing off just a little before he grinned and turned his gaze back to Taeyong. “Now, let’s start with something simple, okay? You’re holding it like you’re ready to swing it around, but doing that is only going to get you so far; you’ll have limited mobility, and if you need to block a blow you won’t have as much strength.” As if to prove his point he lunged forward, aiming for the other’s chest which Taeyong managed to deflect, but the force of it knocked the dagger out of his hand and meant he could press the tip of his own against his shoulder gently.

“You’re thinking of it like you’re going to use it and you’re focusing on the knife. That’ll get you killed.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” The other asked, visibly a little frazzled as he reached down to pick it up from the dirt.

“That’s where I come in, Yong—ie,” Baekhyun mused and drew out the name, pulling back with a wink. “You just listen to hyung and you’ll learn plenty.” It was blatantly obvious that Taeyong had never fought someone in his life, and considering that he’d say the kid actually wasn’t doing too bad, but it was obvious he was getting frustrated. That was making him sloppy. He’d do good for a few seconds, but when Baekhyun would continue to block all his blows his brows would furrow and he’d get all serious, desperately trying to get a hit in. It was painfully adorable, but also enough to make Baekhyun want to toy with him a little; he only felt a little guilty for the fact he’d let Taeyong get close to striking before easily disarming him. “Come on kiddo, you’re not even trying.”

“I’m not a kid,” the other bit back, and Baekhyun laughing seemed to infuriate him even more — Taeyong lunged forward, and maybe he could’ve hit anyone else, but Baekhyun stepped to the side with an ease honed after years of his craft; he knocked the dagger out of his grip and grabbed the other’s arm, staring into angry eyes and smirking, faces mere inches apart.

“I told you to treat it like an extension of you, not a weapon,” he reminded as the other panted and tried to tug away his hand. Baekhyun didn't let go, he just leant in closer, forced the other to meet his gaze and listen. “You’ll get nowhere acting like that. You’re the one who asked me not to hold back.” It was only then he let go, watching as Taeyong pulled his wrist back quickly, frustration evident on his features.

“I know,” the younger finally breathed, breathless and avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t mean to get so into it, I just didn’t think . . .”

“That I’d be this good? I’ll take that as a compliment,” Baekhyun teased. He wiped some of the dust off his hands and moved over to grab a drink of water, because even if the fighting was barely fighting it was still exerting energy and the sun was at it’s highest point, beaming down at them and reflecting off the stone beneath them. “You’re not as meek as I thought, are you? You got pretty worked up there,” he mused, “but I know I tend to have that effect on people. Was it a bit hard to focus?”

“You wish, hyung.” Baekhyun blinked at that, because for all his teasing he hadn’t expected a level reply, nor the way Taeyong walked over to take the bottle once he was done, gulping the water down greedily. “I’m going to get really good, just you wait — you better keep an eye out for me.” Taeyong looked so determined, a fire in his eyes he’d never quite seen as he bowed a little. He’d thought teaching the other would be fruitless but Taeyong had already done better than he’d ever expected on his first go; Baekhyun had known he wouldn’t be able to land a hit, yet, not on him. Maybe this teaching thing had the potential to be rather fun.

“Don’t worry, Taeyong, I will.”

—

It was late in the afternoon by the time that they’d finished for the day, and Taeyong wasn’t exactly sure how many bruises he was going to have in the morning, but he knew it was going to be a lot. As frustrated as he’d gotten, he was glad that Baekhyun had kept true to his promise and wasn’t going easy on him. This was the only way he was going to be able to learn. Usually he’d go back to the store, but Baekhyun had insisted that he stay and eat dinner with them — that he deserved a hearty meal after all his hard work. That praise had been enough to lift his spirits, and the way the other had chased him after Taeyong had found offence in his comment and lightly shoved him. Taeyong’s limbs were burning and he was wheezing by the time he made it into the dining hall, but he was grinning from ear to ear despite it, sweat beading on his temples and heart hammering.

He’d turned to look back at where the other was running after him, laughing at the, “come here, you brat!” That he heard, but that was enough for him to not see the figure that’d been walking past. Taeyong let out a grunt at the contact, almost falling back like he’d hit a brick wall, but hands reached out to steady him just in time. His eyes snapped up and he froze, lips parting. Oh. Taemin. The elder hadn’t budged an inch even with the force of the impact and was just staring at him with an even expression. Those hands drew back, but the man didn’t walk away.

“I— sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Faintly, he could hear Baekhyun come to a stop behind him, panting; Taeyong was definitely faster. Nearly everyone was already at the table, but he wasn’t really aware of their eyes focused on him.

“You should be more careful.” Okay, Taeyong couldn’t quite tell if the other was angry or whether that was supposed to be out of concern, so he just stood there awkwardly for a moment before cursing under his breath. Who knew when he’d see the other again, right? He’d barely caught a glimpse of him since that night, and no matter his worries he couldn’t ignore that gratitude for what Taemin had done for him.

“Taemin—“ the other paused where he’d already taken a few steps, looking at him expectantly, but Taeyong figured to hell with it. He took those last few steps forward and wrapped his arms around the other in a firm hug, head inadvertently against his chest as he did so. His own pulse was hammering. “Thank you, for what you did. It really means a lot to me.” The position felt so familiar; for a moment Taeyong felt like they were standing in a snowy forest, just the two of them, snowflakes lazily falling around them. Just a second and then it was gone. When no response came he pulled back a bit, grip slackening as he looked up to the other male, and he . . . oh.

The only way to describe Taemin’s expression was _angry_. It wasn’t the most accurate, but it was the closest thing that Taeyong could liken it to. His eyes seemed more gold than brown and his pupils seemed to shimmer for a moment before the elder yanked himself away, breathing heavily. He didn’t even get a chance to open his mouth before Taemin was storming off, the door slamming behind him with such force that it seemed to shake the walls.

It was Mark who reached him first despite the fact Baekhyun was only a few feet behind him, too shocked to react. “Taeyong, it’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong—“

“I just wanted to thank him,” Taeyong managed, but gods, he could feel his voice wavering and he was so confused and he didn’t understand what he’d done to make the other react in such a way. “I don’t—“

“Take your hand off me,” he heard Ten snap from over at the table, already out of his seat but stopped by Jongin’s hand on his arm.

“Ten, there’s no point going and arguing with him, you know that.”

“I know! But he— what, and you’re going to do any different to me?”

“Guys, let's all just take a deep breath,” Baekhyun was the one to speak up, but he seemed angry as he spoke, jaw ticking as he stepped forward to where Taeyong and Mark was standing. “Mark, how about you and Taeyong go to your room, huh? I’ll bring you some dinner.” Taeyong instantly shook his head.

“No, I want to go home.”

“Yong, you’re upset, I’m not letting you go home upset,” Mark reasoned, and Taeyong wanted to argue, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t really want to be alone; he didn’t want to sit in that shop all by himself and dwell on this tonight. He swallowed thickly and gave up on fighting his way out of his friend’s arms.

“Will you tell me more stories if I stay?” One of his favourite things was hearing stories from Mark’s time travelling, and he hoped that maybe that’d keep his mind clear for a while, keep away the dreams even.

“Of course, Yong,” Mark promised with a small smile, taking his hand so they could leave the dining room and head back towards his own.

Taeyong tried to focus on the stories as they ate their dinner in Mark’s room rather than the fact he could hear faint yelling somewhere far off in the castle, unable to even determine who it was. Mark told him more about the time they’d met Lucas, how he’d stepped in when Mark inadvertently started a bar fight and had ended up following them after he’d heard Ten talking his own language. Apparently Jongin had almost cut him in half when the other had come stumbling upon their camp later that day, not knowing who he was, but it’d been Ten who’d stepped in, speaking in a foreign tongue as he’d questioned him. Taeyong had drifted off hearing about how Jongin and Lucas hadn’t gotten on very great at first due to some choice misunderstandings, head pillowed on Mark’s shoulder.

Even Mark, as special as he was, couldn’t keep the dreams away.

Taeyong was floating in the darkness again, but this time there was snow falling around him, dissolving into nothing by the time. It felt _colde_ , more desolate in a way, the only warmth radiating from behind him. Even though he couldn’t turn his head he knew the voice was behind him, like always, could feel fingers gingerly brushing some of his hair back before lips pressed to the crown of his head. _/I’m sorry, Taeyong/_.

Even his dreams were cruel, he thought to himself as he melted back into it. What he wouldn’t have given for it to be real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“What did you see?” The other demanded, voice holding more emotion than he’d ever heard.
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “What did you see in the dream, Taeyong? Ten put yarrow in— the psychic dream, what did you see?”
> 
> “I . . . a forest,” Taeyong breathed, confused. “I, I can’t remember much, but a forest, with snow everywhere. There was . . . a man.” He felt the body in front of him stiffen but he didn’t dare look up, heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest; every inch of his body felt like it was crackling with the energy rolling off Taemin. “Why—“/
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!~


	10. Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong's perfect morning goes to shit, and then gets much better again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh I told myself that I wouldn't do two updates in one day but here I am, because I sort of need to finish posting this before uni starts for the year and I already have 50,000+ words so I need to keep going. Besides, this chapter is a little shorter and I just can't help myself.

“A ball?” Taeyong asked after he swallowed his food, glancing over to where Jongin was sprawled out amongst the wildflowers, eyes closed and skin practically glowing under the morning sun. He wasn’t even sure when it’d really happened, but somewhere after the third trip out here it’d just become _their_ spot. He’d never have much warning, he’d just hear the bell above the door jingle and Jongin would walk in with one of those charming smiles, asking if he knew where he could find someone to accompany him on a ride. Rather than sitting behind the silver haired male he always sat in front now, at the other’s insistence, so that Jongin could teach him the reigns — literally. 

“Mm, a ball. My father used to hold them all the time when I was young, and I thought it might be nice. There’s so many things I have to focus on, like alliances, and this will give me a chance to work on that,” the king murmured quietly, not bothering to open his eyes, but one hand reached out through the flowers. Taeyong chuckled before setting the bag off his lap and shifting a little closer, laying back into the grass and turning his head to watch Jongin. He couldn’t help but smile when the hand tangled with his own. “I wanted your opinion before I decided anything, though; I thought it might be good for everyone. It might lift the people’s spirits if we have some festivities, especially since the solstice is approaching. Thoughts?”

“I think . . .” he trailed off, leaving it hanging in the air until one eye peeked open and glanced his way, waiting. Taeyong just laughed, closing his own finally. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Jongin. We were never allowed to celebrate anything before. My favourite part of the year was the lantern festival when I was a kid, we used to sit on the roof and watch them all be let go.”

“Me too. It’s crazy to think we shared the same sky for years and never met.” That warm hand squeezed a little and Taeyong squeezed back, not letting himself focus on the hammering in his chest. It was good to have friends, and he wasn’t going to jeopardise any of that, especially when his feelings were so, well, confusing. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a ball,” Taeyong murmured, but before the other could speak up he nodded. “I guess I’ll just have to find something. I won’t miss it, I promise.” Jongin’s hand left his own and he heard shifting; when he opened his eyes the other was staring down at him with a gentle smile, the sun shining behind him like a halo of pure gold. It was fitting, really. Sometimes looking at Jongin was painful, but Taeyong could never quite bring himself to look away. “What are you smiling at?”

“You.” The younger squeezed his eyes shut and laughed, shoving at the other until he was falling back into the flowers beneath them.

Sometimes it felt like the world disappeared completely when they were there in that meadow, but it was inevitable that each time they’d have to leave, Jongin’s weight leaning against his back and arms around his waist as they’d ride back to the city gates. Going through a smaller passage that gave them more privacy, it was easier that way, and it meant there was less chance of Jongin being spotted. There’d already been questions here and there of where he’d disappear to at times, but often he’d watch the king just smile and say that he’d been resting. It was their little secret, and Taeyong didn’t like keeping secrets, but he could for Jongin — that and the fact that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want these little private moments to stop.

It was why it was such a surprise when they approached the gates and there was a figure waiting for them. Taeyong hadn’t seen Taemin much since the incident in the dining room five days ago, only ever in passing, and there’d certainly never been any sort of explanation for what’d happened, not from Taemin at least. It’d been Jongin who’d told him that the elder simply didn’t like to be touched, and he’d seen enough truth in it that he believed it, but deep down he knew there was more to it. Then again, Jongin didn’t know about that bargain, or the half kiss.

“I’ve been looking for you, Jongin,” Taemin spoke as they dismounted, and Taeyong kept his head down as he unhooked his bag from the saddle, busying himself with stroking a hand over the horse’s flank as the pair spoke.

"You knew where I was.”

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate the . . . interruption.” There was silence after that, but he did look up when Jongin grabbed his own bag and squeezed his shoulder, thanking him from coming along again. He expected the pair to leave together after that, but Taemin stayed behind as Jongin started back towards the castle, leading his horse along behind him. Taeyong didn’t know what to do so he just stood there, swallowing thickly before forcing himself to the meet the other’s gaze. He wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated. Rather than finding anger or disdain, there was almost a softness to Taemin’s gaze as he regarded him. “I never apologised for last week.” That caught him off guard, but Taeyong just shrugged.

“I didn’t expect an apology. I obviously overstepped.”

“You caught me off guard.” Taemin seemed to pause, like he didn’t want to admit it. “I’m not used to that happening.” Taeyong shifted on his feet and nodded, adjusting the strap of his bag, filled with clippings he’d gathered from the woods. There was so much growing these days, like the earth was rejoicing after all these years; things felt so much lighter, happier.

“It’s fine, Taemin. You don’t have to apologise because of anyone,” he murmured, an ache settling in his chest as he finally averted his gaze and went to walk past the other male, but before he could get even a few feet away a hand curled gently around his wrist, not stopping him, but it almost seemed like a question — asking him to stay, for now. Taeyong could’ve pulled away and kept walking, could’ve pretended he didn’t care, but he didn’t. Instead he turned just enough to see the other again, trying to ignore that pull in his chest. “I’m not apologising because anyone told me to,” Taemin murmured, not letting go of his wrist. “I’m apologising because . . .”

“Why?” Taeyong breathed out, hating how desperate he sounded. “Why? Why are you apologising? Why are you acting like I care after the way you treated me, after the way you’ve avoided me ever since you arrived? Why do you hate me so much? Why do I feel like I know you? Why can’t I get you out of my head?” It was revealing more than he’d ever wanted to. He tried to yank his wrist back but that grip tightened and he was yanked closer instead, until they were chest to chest. Taeyong refused to look up.

“What did you see?” The other demanded, voice holding more emotion than he’d ever heard.

“What?”

“What did you see in the dream, Taeyong? Ten put yarrow in— the psychic dream, _what did you see_?”

“I . . . a forest,” Taeyong breathed, confused. “I, I can’t remember much, but a forest, with snow everywhere. There was . . . a man.” He felt the body in front of him stiffen but he didn’t dare look up, heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest; every inch of his body felt like it was crackling with the energy rolling off Taemin. “Why—“

“You smell like lavender and chamomile.” It sounded like a revelation. Taemin pulled away and he instantly looked up, whirring around to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, but by the time he turned there was no one, just an empty street. Taeyong just stood there for a moment, confused and trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened, and then he let out a frustrated scream. What was wrong with him?

“What is it with you and being a cryptic asshole?” Taeyong shouted. His insults went unanswered by the intended target, but he heard a dog bark in response not far off. Great.

—

Mark didn’t like the idea of being jealous, and hell, he didn’t feel like he’d ever been a jealous person before, but he couldn’t deny that he was feeling a little . . . well. Jealous. Maybe. He _knew_ that this was stupid and that he had no reason to feel that way, because nothing of the sort had ever bothered him before, but Taeyong was different; he was the one thing he had left of before, someone who even after all this time still felt like coming home to a warm bed. They’d been best friends as children and it seemed that even a decade apart hadn’t been able to change that. Was it corny to say that he felt like fate had meant for them to find each other again? Perhaps, but he felt that way about all of them. They’d all been supposed to find each other, Ten had whispered as much one night when they’d all been curled up by their fire, the journey back to Enese long and harrowing. 

“Some people’s fates are tied,” he’d murmured, “their threads connected through the tapestry of the universe. It’s . . . sometimes I wish you all could see it, the way I do. We’re all connected.”

It wasn’t like Mark had expected to feel this way, gods, he hadn’t even expected to find Taeyong upon his return — he’d come to terms with his death as a child, and whilst he’d reminisced and wished things were different he’d never looked back. They’d just been children, after all. But they weren’t children now, they were men, and sometimes Mark couldn’t help the way his palms got sweaty or the way he’d stumble over his words when Taeyong smiled, his tongue and brain refusing to cooperate, overloaded by such a beautiful view. Taeyong was so different to what he’d ever expected, but the more he came out of his shell the more he saw glimpses of that boy he’d once known too, the one he’d grown up with and pinky swore to be with forever.

Mark’s hand curled around the doorknob and he let it swing inwards, the little bell above the door tinkling in the air and signalling his arrival as he stepped inside. He could still remember it so clearly, the way they’d ran through these shelves as children, hands always intertwined. He’d thought they’d be best friends for life, so why did it feel like he was losing him? Like he was drifting further and further out to sea, too far away for Mark to reach no matter how hard he swam?

The first thing he noted was that Taeyong looked tired, hair hanging down in his face and a mismatch of black and white, eyes rimmed a little red like he’d been upset, nose pink and shiny. The second was that his movements were more aggressive as he ground an unidentified plant in his mortar and pestle, jaw set and each twist rather stiff. He looked upset, maybe a little lost, and Mark just watched for a moment before he accidentally knocked a jar with his elbow; he managed to stop it from falling, setting it back gently on the shelf beside him, but when he looked up he didn’t miss the faint surprise in his friend’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, I thought—“

“I was Jongin, yeah, I figured. Doesn’t he usually come in the morning?” Mark could see the way that seemed to upset Taeyong, the other ducking his head down like he was a child waiting to be scolded,but at least he put the pestle down, sniffing a little. “Why don’t you talk to me anymore, Yong? Aren’t we friends?”

“Of course,” the other replied quickly, and when he looked up Mark’s heart tightened at how defeated he looked. “I just— he didn’t want anyone to know, because he didn’t want to have to stop.”

“What if something had happened? What if someone had gotten hurt and we didn’t know where you guys were?” Taeyong didn’t answer, just bowed his head a little, and Mark . . . gods, he couldn’t even pretend to be angry. He took a few steps forward so he could draw the other forward into a hug, burying his face into the other’s hair and inhaling deeply. Taeyong was just barely taller than him, but he was capable of folding in on himself in a way that made him seem so small, so fragile, even though he was far from it. He was one of the most resilient people Mark had ever met “What’s going on? I feel like you keep pushing me away.”

“I’m sorry.” Mark smoothed a hand over the other’s back, just trying to do what he could, but it was hard to help when he didn’t know the problem. “I feel like . . . like I’m going crazy. Every time I go to sleep I have these _dreams_ and sometimes I only remember when I’m awake, and I hear—“ the other cut himself off, squeezing Mark a little tighter. “I feel like I’m missing something, but I don’t know _what_.”

“You’re not going crazy, Yong, I promise. Ten said magic can be hard to adjust to—“

“But I can’t even _do_ magic, Mark! We’ve tried everything and nothing is working and all of you are so damn confusing and I can’t— I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Taeyong so upset before, a mix between frustration and anger and pain that made his own heart ache like the pain was his own; Mark wanted nothing more than to be able to take it all away, to shoulder Taeyong’s suffering so that the other could be happy. He deserved it more than anyone.

Mark wasn’t sure why he did it, but rather than opening his mouth to talk when the other pulled back a little he leant forward, pressing their lips together gently and cupping Taeyong’s cheek, holding him close with his other hand. The moment he realised what he’d done he panicked, cursing himself ten times over as he moved to pull back, but before he could get an inch away Taeyong’s hands looped around the back of his neck, keeping him close. He could feel the other’s breath washing over his face for a few brief seconds before their lips touched again, something so painfully sweet and innocent. “Did you kiss me to shut me up?” Taeyong murmured against his lips, one hand toying with the soft hairs at his nape as the other moved to settle on his chest, not pulling back at all — the action gave Mark goosebumps, but the good kind, like little feathers dancing over his skin. It took him a moment to process the question.

“No.” He hadn’t done it to placate him, he’d done it because . . . because he didn’t like seeing Taeyong look so desolate like he was alone, like no one understood, when Mark was right here— when he wanted to be _someone_ for him. “I’ve wanted to for a while.” Those lips grazed his own again and he felt like he was melting, but before he could lean back in Taeyong pulled back just a little, those hands falling down to tentatively squeeze his own. He seemed more relaxed, more put together, a softness in his eyes that Mark had never seen. It was so warm.

“I can’t give you an answer yet, I . . .” Mark swallowed thickly but nodded, thumbs rubbing circles over the other’s palms.

“It’s okay, Taeyong. I have things I need to deal with too. I just . . . you’re not alone, okay? I’m here.”

“I know.”

There was a moment where they just stared at each other, a flush rising up under Mark’s collar, but then he forced himself to pull back just enough to reach into his pocket and pull out a piece of paper, folded and marked with the royal crest. “I should get back, but I hope you’ll at least consider this, Yong; you’ve earned it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“Don’t cry for me, Taeyong.” The other sniffed a little but didn’t answer, reaching out to set a hand over his chest, fingers grazing over more or those little marks and mapping them out like he could feel the stories they told. Maybe he could. One thing Ten had decided was that Taeyong definitely had an affinity for energy. “I can cover them if they upset you.”
> 
> “No,” the other answered with a strength that surprised both of them. “No,” Taeyong repeated, softer. “I just . . . I always thought you were being paranoid, but you were looking out for me, weren’t you?”
> 
> “What can I say? You’ve got such a pretty face, I’d hate to see it marked up.” That got Ten a weak laugh at least, but Taeyong was still focused on tracing scars, those eyes finally meeting his own after a few moments./
> 
> A always, I don't have a beta so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> Also please let me know if you enjoy these snippets or not :)


	11. Part 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong learns more about magic, and himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading this after finishing writing a future and I just- oh my. Y'all are in for a wild ride, especially the chapter after this which was one of my favourite's to write. 
> 
> P.S can you tell how much I love Ten lmao

Taeyong had never put much thought into love or anything of the sort. In a way, as morbid as it may have sounded, he supposed he’d just always assumed that he’d die before he ever found someone who he truly cared for. Even on that off chance that he did . . . well, he’d known from a young age that his preferences didn’t lay in chasing the skirts of girls his age, and whilst it wasn’t _that_ big of a deal, it was enough that he’d never really let himself think about it. He hadn’t needed a reason to be different, because different was often just a kinder word for dead. 

Not here, though.

No, here Jongin seemed to be very passionate about rebuilding the kingdom into a place where you could be, well, _you,_ whatever that meant.

He’d never been romantically interested in someone — that was probably a much better way to phrase it. Taeyong wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like, but then again he doubted anyone really knew what it was until they actually felt it. For him, at least, it was just as much of a mystery as the magic that ran through his veins. He wasn’t quite are what any of this was.

What he did know was that what he felt for Mark was more than what he thought you should feel for a friend, because kissing wasn’t exactly a platonic display of affection, but when he really sat down, thought about it, he wasn’t really capable of separating what he felt for Mark from other friends he had. Those butterflies he got in his stomach were the same as he got when Jongin smiled at him or when Lucas would find him during lunch and insist they eat together, or when Baekhyun would ruffle his hair after another failed training attempt or how Ten was always touching him, or how . . . yeah.

Taeyong was pretty sure there was just something wrong with him; perhaps some deep set trauma based on a painful, loveless youth, but even if he told himself that it did nothing to invalidate those feelings that would bubble up inside him each time without fail.

The smartest thing to do would probably be to stay away, right? He could minimise any pain to himself, retreat back into the little home he’d made in his shell, safe and sound and tucked away from the world outside. Opening himself up to someone, anyone, it was terrifying. Taeyong knew he should’ve said _no_ , but he’d known the moment he read over the offer that he never would’ve been able to say anything other than a resounding yes. He was sick of being here in this shop, filled with nothing but bittersweet memories; he wanted to be closer to the people that his life seemed to revolve around, the people he cared for. His _friends_.

Maybe he’d anticipated that it’d be awkward to be around Mark after the kiss (kisses, plural) they’d shared, but Taeyong had been pleased to find that there was nothing of the sort when Lucas and Mark had showed up in the morning to get his answer. He’d just felt happy when the pair had hugged him in close, laughing and claiming they were so glad he’d made the right decision. Taeyong wasn’t just no one anymore, he was someone — court physician to be exact. Perhaps a month ago he would’ve found it hard to accept and claimed that he was nowhere near worthy of such a title, but hell, he knew damn well he was. There was no one in this city as good at healing as him.

He’d earned this, just like Mark had said.

Even so, it’d been a lot to leave the place he’d lived in for such a large portion of his life. When they’d loaded up the last few boxes it’d been Lucas who’d padded over to where he was staring at the empty store, wrapping arms around him and resting his chin on the crown of his head, something Taeyong hadn’t been able to help but melt back into. Lucas was also so impossibly warm. “It’s okay to have another home, Yongie,” he’d murmured, parroting something he’d said to the taller male the other week. Taeyong had closed his eyes and smiled before nodding a little, reaching up to squeeze the other’s hand.

“C’mon, we better get going guys,” Mark called from where he’d put the last box up, dusting his hands off. “Ten’s going to have a fit if we don’t get there soon.”

Mark had said there was a surprise from Ten — he hadn’t realised that the surprise was a joint effort, or that everyone would be waiting when they got to the castle. He’d been oblivious as he was led through the corridors, as Lucas’s hands covered his eyes before they reached a corner and Mark took one of his own to guide him along. His heart had been fluttering in his chest by that point, cheeks beginning to ache from how he’d been smiling for so long. He couldn’t even begin what to imagine what was going on.

The apothecary in the castle had always been something he was envious was, and after his almost daily lessons with Ten he’d become rather familiar with, and admittedly rather attached to, the space. If it’d been impressive before . . . gods, nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight he was greeted with when those hands were removed from his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was how _bright_ it was, with light flooding the large room which seemed so open and clean compared to how it’d been before — all of the equipment had been cleaned and broken furniture had been carted out, replaced by new things that were even more beautiful, things he’d never even dreamt of. On the left wall the large double bay window that’d always been boarded up and shattered was completely fixed, glass spotless and glistening and allowing a view of a large portion of the city

The second thing he noticed was the plants, well, everywhere. Pots of all shapes and sizes holding every plant he could think of, from herbs to flowers, all things he could recognise and used often in his work; he’d never had the space to grow his own stock in that cramped room he’d called a store, and he’d certainly never had enough light, but in here he knew they’d thrive. Then came the shelves, filled with jars already and stocked with everything he’d ever had before and more, close to a large work bench that was made of such a beautiful rich wood, the surface smooth and free of stains and splinters, ready for him to start. Taeyong didn’t miss the basket of fruit on the counter, something small, but recognisable none the less.

“Do you like it?” Ten asked, looking ridiculously proud of himself. Taeyong couldn’t even bring himself to verbalise the joy that surged up inside him, instead settling for throwing his arms around the other male with a wet grin and sobbing into his shoulder.

“Yes, I— _gods, yes._ ”

“I planned it all, but I have to give everyone credit, they helped pull it all together.” Everyone. Taeyong hadn’t even noticed at first that everyone was in the room, but they were, watching with smiles as he cried like a baby. It was embarrassing, but he didn’t really care at that point. Hell, even Taemin was standing there with his eyes focused on him, expression a barely there smile. Everyone had helped. It was like whiplash from what he’d experienced yesterday, but Taeyong was so happy in the moment that he didn’t want anything to ruin it, so he didn’t dwell, he just focused on thanking everyone profusely and trying to get rid of his tears.

—

“Do you know the origin of magic, Taeyong?” Ten asked from where he was perched by the window, staring out at the sun setting over the city rather than looking at the other. It’d only been a few days since Taeyong had officially moved into the castle and taken up his duties, but between those and the preparations for the festivities that Jongin had announced they’d all been busy — even so they hadn’t neglected their little ‘lessons’, meaning Ten usually came here when he could to teach Taeyong while he was working. Even now the other hadn’t stopped, so focused on brewing up a remedy for one of his patients down in the city.

“No,” the other admitted, and Ten finally glanced away from the city to watch Taeyong instead. With the light outside fading with the sun they’d already lit lanterns, and the soft, warm light that cascaded from them made Taeyong look even softer than usual. It was hard not to stare sometimes. “Will you tell me?”

“Of course. A lot of people you ask will give you different stories,” Ten admitted, “but there’ll always be key similarities. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that there’s ‘light’ and ‘dark’ magic, but there are two distinct strains. Most of what you see these days is what people would call dark, because it all has the same origin.”

“What’s that?”

“There are planes out there that differ from our own. Some say that’s where the old Gods came from, but I doubt such beings exist anymore. Before us, there were the Fae, beings of pure, natural magic who inhabited the earth; when these beings would become corrupted, they’d become demons, entities who thrived on chaos.” Ten glanced over and noted that Taeyong was finally watching him with rapt obvious, obviously confused. Probably doubting the legitimacy of any of what he was saying. “Don’t worry, they can’t survive here, not for long at least — the problem came when they’d cross over and mingle with humans before they’d fade. See, unlike the Fae, they didn’t have any qualms with reproducing with humans.”

“Ten . . .”

“What, did you think humans just, well, magically acquired the ability to do magic? It was never meant for us,” Ten snorted. “Nearly all magic you see these days is minor magic, the result of diluted bloodlines where someone had a relative a hundred years ago that fucked a demon, it’s why people say it’s dying out, but there are some flukes.”

“Flukes?”

“People with a stronger concentrate in their blood.” He could see the cogs turning in the other’s mind, and then the realisation, the silent question as he looked at him. Ten just nodded, flashing a small smile.

“Of course, there’s a reason why I’m stronger than most people. I’ve seen plenty people touched by magic who can only do parlour tricks, only a few who can do even half of what I do. The closer you are to the direct source, the stronger you are, or the more magic in your blood — it’s not so straight forward, I guess. You can have to people of the same heritage and one will be much stronger, but your blood still restricts your power at a certain point. We call people like that mages.”

“The more power you have in your blood, though, the less human you inherently are — you start getting humans who look less and less like humans, who have different features and tells. When it starts getting to that point the people you find are much stronger, capable of things you can only dream of; with such a high concentrate of demonic blood, you’re a warlock.”

“So you’re a warlock, then?”

“Me and Taemin, yes. My mother was a human, but my sire was a demon; half casts like me aren’t very common these days, I’ve only met two others. It’s why my magic is so . . . potent.” Taeyong had long since put down anything he had in his hands, and when Ten glanced back the other had drifted closer, hesitantly sitting on the window seat just behind him. He’d only ever told this story a number of times in his life, enough he could count on one hand, but it never really got easier — each time there was a small part of him that expected to be hurt by what he saw, for the other’s features to show a blatant disgust and revulsion, a fear. Instead Taeyong’s features were pulled into something soft and understanding as he tried to process it all.

“Is that why you can do so much, then? I mean, I’ve seen you use magic without a source, and you said Taemin was different to you in the way he, you know.” Ten chuckled at that, barely audible.

“The laws of magic apply to everyone, Yongie, even me. I pay my price each time.” He could see the other’s confusion, and he couldn’t quite blame him, so Ten watched for a second before twisting back around in his seat and unbuttoning his shirt. Once he was done he let the red fabric fall down to pool around his waist. He could hear that sharp intake the moment Taeyong saw them — the scars. His skin almost glowed in the light when he shifted, small marks faded with age making his skin almost luminescent, overlapping everywhere. Most were old enough they could only be seen if you were searching or in the right light, and even then he’d have to let the illusion he always held fall free from his grasp, like now. Some were fresher, a few years, but one on his side was much more recent, from the night they’d fought for this place. Healed, but the scar was still pink. Not very big, just an inch in length, the skin warped like it’d split open and been pieced back together.

The crowning piece, though, was the two chunky, vertical scars between his shoulder blades, the skin white and gnarled even after all theses years. They’d been his first. Ten swallowed thickly and stared at the wall, focusing on the reflections of flames, the flickering shadows; there’d alway been comfort in the fire. He’d tensed only momentarily when fingers grazed so gently over the scars, and Ten closed his eyes. “What happened?”

“I went too far,” Ten hummed, letting the other map them out. “Like I said, the more magic you have, the more it affects you — if my mother hadn’t been sure, she knew the moment I was born that I was wrong. I came out deformed, these _things_ on my back that should’ve been wings, but I was a sick child. They never formed properly.” He’d been trapped for so long, cursed with things that should’ve been an escape but doomed to stay grounded. Caged. “When she sold me, my magic manifested for the first time, and they were the price I paid.”

“Oh, _Ten_.” He smiled a little at that and twisted back around, noting that Taeyong’s eyes were a little misty as they looked over the scars on his chest too — most rather delicate, easy to hide with the illusion he always maintained. Smooth skin, free of imperfections.

“Don’t cry for me, Taeyong.” The other sniffed a little but didn’t answer, reaching out to set a hand over his chest, fingers grazing over more or those little marks and mapping them out like he could feel the stories they told. Maybe he could. One thing Ten had decided was that Taeyong definitely had an affinity for energy. “I can cover them if they upset you.”

“No,” the other answered with a strength that surprised both of them. “No,” Taeyong repeated, softer. “I just . . . I always thought you were being paranoid, but you were looking out for me, weren’t you?”

“What can I say? You’ve got such a pretty face, I’d hate to see it marked up.” That got Ten a weak laugh at least, but Taeyong was still focused on tracing scars, those eyes finally meeting his own after a few moments.

“Thank you for telling me.” Ten just shrugged, but he couldn’t deny that there was a tightness in his own chest. His fingers fiddled with the fabric in his lap even as he looked over the other’s features, not bothering to cover himself even though he naturally felt odd being exposed without that spell to hide his flaws. “So is Taemin like you, then? Half?”

“No — remember how I told you once Taemin was much, much stronger?” A nod. “He’s . . . it’s not my place to say very much, but you deserve to know the truth; it’s not like he ever tries to hide it anyway,” Ten chuckled, pushing back some of Taeyong’s hair affectionately, not allowing himself to focus on how close they were, on how easy it would be to lean in. Emotions made him feel so _vulnerable_ , and he wasn’t overly fond of the feeling. “Not many warlocks exist, humans who have equal amounts of demon blood, but somehow that’s what Taemin’s mother was. If she’d had a child with a human, he still would’ve been incredibly strong, but his father was a demon. He’s rather one of a kind.”

Ten had been shocked enough when he’d first found out, though of course the first time Taemin had walked into that bar he’d been able to _feel_ the energy rolling off him in waves, that pure power that was beyond anything he’d ever seen before in his life. Taemin was dangerous, but he wasn’t bad, he just . . . wasn’t very human sometimes. Then again, Ten had seen the glimpses at what lay beneath that cool exterior, the warmth that could exist in his heart which didn’t beat as much as it should’ve. He could understand all those emotions that flashed across Taeyong’s features as he came to the realisation, fingers just carding through his hair as he did, but the other didn’t panic or run. He just listened before offering a small nod, obviously lost in thought as he leant forward to rest his head on Ten’s chest

“He looks so human.”

“Mostly, yeah. His eyes change sometimes too, though; mine just shine, but his look like cat eyes — scared the hell out of me the first time I saw it. You should see his wings,” Ten breathed wistfully, face pressed into Taeyong’s hair as they sat there in the candle light.

—

Taeyong would like to say that things were a bit better, now. He had an incredible job here in the castle that made him buys _and_ happy, a room which most would kill for, and everything he could ever want. Things were more hectic than ever with the preparations for the ball and subsequent festivities that were mere days away, but he felt more, well, stable than he had a week ago. Busy, but good. If he wasn’t in the apothecary he was doing house calls or helping out with the planning and decorating, and when he wasn’t doing that he spent his time trying to pick up some basic fighting skills with Baekhyun. Lucas had somehow found out and tried to help, but it’d been rather humorous the way the other had been so careful of him; it was the only time Taeyong had ever won during those sessions, because the taller male had refused to hit him.

Nights were calmer. More often than not Ten would end up sitting by his windowsill, telling him stories or sometimes just keeping him company, and sometimes it’d get rather busy in there, if just for the fact Mark would often drop by, which usually meant Lucas followed, and sometimes he’d end up with nearly everyone in there. Key word: nearly.

Taemin wasn’t avoiding him, or at least not like he had been before. He saw him in passing, the other would meet his gaze, but they’d never get a moment alone together, and Taeyong was starting to feel like that was something that the really needed. He had so many questions that required answers, some he felt he knew the answers to and others he was still completely in the dark about. Some of it he may have been able to ask Ten but he felt like if he did, the other would want to know _why_. Taeyong wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet.

One of the more unfortunate things of being so busy was that, well, he didn’t have the time to spend with Jongin like he had beforehand; the other already struggled to find time to himself given the scale of what they were planning and the politics that were behind it, but that one morning he’d snuck away and come into the apothecary with a smile, asking for company, it’d killed Taeyong to have to say no. “I’m sorry,” he’d apologised, chest aching as he’d watched that smile fall. “I have so many house calls today, I can’t put them off.” Jongin had laughed it off, but he could see that the other was disappointed because his smile didn’t cause his eyes to puff up like it usually did.

“It’s okay, Yong, I figured I’d try. I almost wish I hadn’t hired you.” When Taeyong’s face had fallen the elder had been quick to clear it up. “No, no, not because— that was a stupid thing to say, I’m sorry. I’m really glad you’re working here now, I just . . . I suppose I’m not used to having to share you like this.”

So no, they hadn’t been able to go for a ride, but they’d eaten breakfast together by the window and talked for as long as they could before Taemin had wandered in to fetch the king, presumably for business. Taeyong had considered ignoring him, if just because there was definitely some frustration and bitterness there, but in the end he just, well, he didn’t really have it in him after what he’d learned. He wasn’t scared, even though that probably would’ve been a suitable response, but after everything he’d started to realise in his private moments there was perhaps a bit more understanding, some leeway at least. So Taeyong had offered a little smile. “Thank you for the fruit, Taemin, and for helping with the window. I really like it,” he’d called quietly before the pair left, finding it almost endearing the way the other just stared in silence for a moment before nodding, turning away to follow after Jongin. Taeyong almost felt like he’d seen a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

Things felt like they were falling into place, and Taeyong hated that he felt like he could forget, well, the rest of it.

Ten had demanded that he be Taeyong’s stylist for the ball, even though Taeyong had said that he’d probably just be standing on the sidelines so that he kept his promise to Jongin. He certainly wasn’t planning to dance or anything of the sort, and even if he was now the court physician he was no one important when compared to the people that were going to be at this event — people from all over the land, royalty and nobility and all that sort. He wouldn’t be at Jongin’s side, not like the others would be; Lucas and Mark would technically be on duty as his guards, but Ten, Baekhyun and Taemin would be by his side like always, perhaps as an extra layer of attention but mores as his devoted friends. Taeyong couldn’t fathom why he had to dress up and look so, well, fancy, but Ten had said he could leave the outfit to him (which made him rather nervous).

In the end he’d agreed just because he didn’t have the heart to say no, but also because, well, Ten had fixed his hair. Gone were those pesky white patches that were growing though — when he looked in the mirror he just looked like himself. Normal, ordinary Taeyong who probably only had a very tiny bit of magic in his blood and probably couldn’t use it anyway. That first night had likely been a fluke.

—

Taeyong had dealt with trouble in the marketplace before, but back then it’d always been just because he’d gotten in the way or something, nothing overly personal, and he was deemed far enough from a threat he’d often gotten away unscathed. He’d never had someone target him just because of . . . well, him. 

Taeyong had been coming back from a house call, a smile on his lips as he walked through the marketplace, only to let out a small grunt when a body knocked into him, throwing him off balance. He managed to catch himself before he fell at all, but rather than hearing an apology the man who’d hit him just snickered, staring with a look that was so bitter it caught him by surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” he mumbled, but the man just laughed again.

“What, used to the spacious halls of the castle already?” Taeyong knew there were people, albeit not many, who weren’t happy with all the changes they’d made, no matter how good — in his mind they were people who were bitter just for the sake of being bitter, who liked having something to be angry about. He knew there were some who looked at him in a different light with a new position. He knew some called him a sell out. He’d never imagined someone would cause a scene about it, because hell, people were definitely watching.

Taeyong took a moment to try and figure out what to do, but eventually he just forced himself to look away, moving like he was going to walk off. He wasn’t going to stand here and argue with this man. “Too good to talk to us now that you’re the castle whore?” Taeyong whirled around, shocked and angry and disgusted, but before he could even open his mouth a large figure was swooping in, grabbing the man by his collar and getting right up in his face.

“You want to say that again?” Lucas almost growled, and gods, he’d never seen the other so _angry_ before. So serious. All Taeyong could do was stare for a moment, but when the man stumbled over his words and Lucas reached for the hilt of his sword he couldn’t just stand by — there was a crowd gathered, people already whispering under their breath. He could only imagine the gossip that was going to arise from this,.

“Lucas,” he tried, setting a hand on the other’s back, but it did nothing. “Lucas, it’s— _Yukhei_ , come on, he’s not worth it. It’s fine,” Taeyong tried to reassure as he rubbed the other’s shoulder, and that seemed to have an affect, because the other relaxed just a little before letting go, watching the man stumble. He could see that Lucas was still angry, hell, he looked downright murderous and his nostrils were still flaring like he was ready to snap again, but at Taeyong’s urging he looked away and nodded, ready to escort him away.

It all happened so quick that Taeyong didn’t even get time to process what was happening before he was surging forward. The man had sneered at them, had grabbed a knife from his side and moved towards Lucas’s back, and Taeyong had responded on instinct. With the sessions he had with Baekhyun, he’d felt like he hadn’t progressed at all, that maybe it was a stupid idea, but this was proof he’d certainly improved; Taeyong balanced his weight right and shoved his palm forward, slamming that blade out of the other’s hand and catching the handle with his other one as it fell. Within a second he had it held up to the man’s throat, chest heaving and eyes wide as he realised that _he’d_ done that.

It was the first time anyone had ever looked at him in fear.

Patrolling guards had headed towards the commotion and quickly intervened, grabbing the individual and dragging him off, but Taeyong was still holding the blade with trembling fingers until Lucas gently removed it, leading him away from the crowd before pulling him into a tight hug, lips pressed to the top of his head. “It’s okay, Yongie— hey, look at me. You saved my life,” the other insisted, forcing him to meet his gaze. There were still chinks in that armour and Lucas could’ve at least been serious hurt. “Do you know how _badass_ that was?” Taeyong was still at a loss for words. Adrenaline was coursing through him and gods, he’d acted on pure fear, so scared that Lucas was going to be hurt or killed, and in the moment that’d been all he cared about. 

Taeyong just launched himself at the other, wrapping his arms tightly around the taller male and letting out a shaky breath. “You’re so brave, Taeyong,” Lucas murmured, hands smoothing over his hair and lips pressing to his cheek. “I love that about you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“You listen to me, Lee Taeyong,” Ten spoke up, reaching around to rest his arms on his shoulder, fingers adjusting some hair as they looked at him in the mirror. “You are whoever you want to be. Take away social standing or wealth or where you came from, do you like how you look?” Taeyong didn’t answer for a few moments, swallowing thickly as he took in the stranger staring back at him, but the man wasn’t a stranger, just a version of himself that he’d never dared imagine could exist. Someone confident and proud, someone desirable. So he nodded, lips twitching just barely as he tried to hold himself a bit straighter.
> 
> “Yes.”/
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes


	12. Part 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A transformation takes place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so excited to post this chapter since I wrote it, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! I know it's a little long lmao. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your kind comments, I love reading them <3 I know I've been updating pretty frequently, so if you'd like to get notifications whenever I update feel free to subscribe :)
> 
> Also, we gain the E rating bois

Taeyong stared into the mirror and . . . well, someone else stared back. They had the same face, the same angled jaw and strong brows, that same pocked scar under his right eye that he’d had since a child, but the man staring back at him had something he’d never seen in himself before.

“Ten, this is too much,” he breathed out, but the other male just scoffed from where he was observing, nimble fingers reaching out to adjust the collar. When he’d agreed to let the other dress him up for tonight he’d already been nervous about the idea of wearing clothes remotely fancier than his usual attire; this was the sort of thing he never could’ve dreamed of. The shirt was made of a soft material that shone in the light and came up high on his throat, black with flecks of shimmering gold that almost appeared like golden stars, twinkling with each breath. The black coat that Ten had eased onto his shoulders was made of a thick, luxe material that seemed to be tailored to perfectly fit his body, accentuating his shoulders and adding to the look. It was plain save for the trim, golden thread woven into intricate little designs that trailed over the edges. A perfect complimentary to the shirt. Dark pants that conformed to every curve of his body and shoes so sturdy and shiny that he almost hadn’t dare to touch them.

It was the sort of thing you’d see on a king, not someone like him.

“Ridiculous, it’s perfect, or is that your way of telling me you don’t like it?” Ten hummed, standing behind him and meeting his gaze through the mirror with a cocked brow, his new hair falling over his forehead. It was a beautiful colour that would’ve looked ludicrous on anyone else, a shade of pale blue that only seemed to make his skin glow even more.

“Of course not, it’s beautiful, I just . . . I don’t know if it’s _me_ ,” he murmured, glancing back at his own face and taking note of the magic that Ten had done — figuratively, not literally. His face seemed more angular, more mature, maybe a combination of the clothes and the way his dark hair was styled back off his face. It gave the illusion of confidence. His eyes had been brushed with a faint shimmer on the lid, just enough to shine when he moved, and underneath his lash line had been smoked out, barely noticeable but creating a distinct effect; he looked like _someone,_ someone important. He looked like the sort of person that Taeyong would’ve been intimidated by even a month ago.

“You listen to me, Lee Taeyong,” Ten spoke up, reaching around to rest his arms on his shoulder, fingers adjusting some hair as they looked at him in the mirror. “You are whoever you want to be. Take away social standing or wealth or where you came from, do you like how you look?” Taeyong didn’t answer for a few moments, swallowing thickly as he took in the stranger staring back at him, but the man wasn’t a stranger, just a version of himself that he’d never dared imagine could exist. Someone confident and proud, someone desirable. So he nodded, lips twitching just barely as he tried to hold himself a bit straighter.

“Yes.”

“Humans are multifaceted, Yongie, it’s one of their many charms. It’s just another you, I didn’t have to do any magic to bring him out, this is all you.” Taeyong did smile at that, finally turning around to face the other. His shoes resembled ones Ten usually wore and they gave him a little bit of extra height, but they were evenly matched given the other’s shoes were higher. Taeyong may have looked good, but Ten was something else entirely, the shirt he’d donned hanging loose over his frame and moving like molten gold, ears adorned with a variety of jewellery and band around his throat which held a gorgeous sapphire. Stunning.

“There’s one last surprise, though.” Taeyong’s brows furrowed as he watched Ten turn back to take a small box off the bench, opening it as he stepped forward. “Close your eyes.” The anticipation and curiosity had him hesitating, but in the end he still complied, dark eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks as he felt the other reach up to fasten something around his neck, part of it dropping down to his chest. Those hands turned him around and covered his eyes for good measure before they drew back. “Open.”

Taeyong felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs.

It was weighty, the necklace that now hung around his neck, a thin chain that lay in a v down his chest, a beautiful blue stone encrusted in the gold like a beacon against his shirt. If those shimmers were the stars, this was a supernova. The stone alone was probably worth more than anything he’d ever laid eyes upon, similar to the one around Ten’s throat, and it . . . Taeyong wasn’t sure what to say. Blue and gold, he realised, which was the colours of Jongin’s family crest. “I—“

“Jongin will be upset if you don’t wear it, he had one made for all of us,” Ten cut in before he could argue, hands smoothing down his chest with a fond smile. “We’re all important to him, Yong, and he wants people to see that. Humour him, yeah?” Taeyong wanted to insist that this was too much and that he couldn’t possibly consider it, but the more it sat there the more right it felt, and knowing that this was a gift from Jongin, knowing the significance it held, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He just wished he wasn’t so greedy to want more. Not more precious gems or metals, but something equally as precious to him.

“Besides, look at you — you look positively gorgeous. I doubt anyone will be able to take their eyes off you,” the other mused. Taeyong wasn’t used to having eyes on him in the first place, and he couldn’t deny that he was rather nervous after the incident in the market place earlier in the week, but . . . oddly enough, he didn’t feel too scared. Maybe the outfit really was making him feel more confident. His lack of an answer wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but it was starting to seem like Ten could read him better than anyone sometimes.

“Oh? I know that look, is there someone you _want_ to be looking, hmm?” Ten teased, and Taeyong instantly got a little flustered, looking away and trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say in response, but he . . . well, he just ducked his head down a little, didn’t deny it even though he partially wanted to. Ten wasn’t that far from the truth. “There is, isn’t there?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter,” Taeyong breathed, shaking his head and adjusting the few rings Ten had slid on his fingers, a minimal amount compared to his own. “I’m not quite sure what I want anymore, it’s all so confusing. Besides, they wouldn’t . . .”

“Anyone would be lucky to have you, Taeyong,” the other spoke, softer, eyes holding warmth as he squeezed his hands. It was a special moment, something Taeyong would remember for a long time. “Now, come on, let’s go cream some pants.”

“Ten!”

—  


There’d been more decisions to make than Taeyong had ever anticipated there would be, more things to remember too, but Ten had been patient and made sure he understood everything as they headed through the halls to the main ball room. He hadn’t seen it since yesterday morning when it’d still seemed far from ready for the monolith they had planned, but he’d been assured it’d be prepared in time.

For one, he had to try and remember which colours to look out for and which crest they accompanied, because some of their prospective allies were more favourable than others and, in Ten’s eyes, whilst none of them could be trusted completely there were some to worry about more than others. Then there was remembering etiquette, something he’d only had a minor crash course on — Taeyong knew he was there as a guest of the king, but he was still no more than a commoner. He knew he’d need to remember his place, because they’d all worked so hard for this and the last thing he wanted to do was fail Jongin.

There was also the decision of whether or not he’d walk in with them. Taeyong’s clothing was enough to set him apart from the crowd and mark him as part of Jongin’s personal court, but Ten had reassured that he’d discussed it with Jongin prior, and that if he truly wasn’t comfortable with it that he didn’t have to — that he could slip into the ball like everyone else and seek them out after the offical entrance. As much as he wanted to be by their side, he just wasn’t sure if he could do it. The last thing he needed was to make a fool of himself, and them.

Everyone was on high alert given the amount of foreign dignitaries that’d been arriving since yesterday and he knew their king had been flat out ever since it’d started, pleasing royals and playing the part until tonight; that being said, the ball was open to everyone regardless of social standing, and the festivities were due to flow out onto the streets with dance troupes and entertainment. They’d been preparing for days, decorating and organising. Taeyong had faith that it’d all pay off.

—

Taeyong had entered the main room through a side door, following after a few noble women from the city, and even considering the fact he’d come in early and alone to avoid attention a lot of eyes still fell to him, even if some didn’t seem to recognise him quickly, or at all. Despite the fact the king and his entourage weren’t here yet there was already a formidable crowd filled with everyone he could think of, from earnest workers in their best clothes to people he knew had to be foreign royalty, not just due to their ornate clothing but the air they held around them, an energy he couldn’t quite explain; the energy in general was so busy tonight, and that was truly the only word he could think of to adequately describe that buzz that settled over his skin, the way he felt. Now that Ten had taught him what to look for he knew how to ground himself, inhaling deeply and smoothing a hand over his stomach before carefully weaving his way through the crowd to find a spot closer to the main staircase, dark eyes scanning the room. Everyone here seemed normal, at least in terms of how they felt, just little glimpses of spikes in the air here and there that he’d learn to attribute to minor magic. 

Taeyong’s eyes turned towards the front of the large room, where there was a raised platform that he knew would be for Jongin and his guests. There was a table that stretched the length of it, facing out towards the crowd, lined with gorgeous chairs, one in particular nothing short of a throne even if it was nothing compared to the one he’d caught a glimpse of one day when he’d passed the throne room. That particular wing was still undergoing reconstruction, and he wasn’t quite sure but everyone seemed to avoid it.

The room was beautiful, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the castle gardens and high ceilings, so high he felt they could touch the stars, lanterns hovering above them in a way he knew had to be magic. There was a signature there, a feeling in the air that he’d come to associate with Ten’s magic, so he knew that the enchantment that had transformed the roof into the night sky was his work. Blue and gold was an obvious theme, and it just made everything look so, well, regal. Luxurious.

When a maid passed him with a platter his stomach grumbled in protest and Taeyong almost reached out, but he was too nervous to eat, anticipating their arrival like everyone else.

A hand reached past him to pluck one of the treats off the platter, fingers slender and adorned with a number of gemstone rings which radiated wealth and Taeyong paused, trying to school himself before he looked over to see the man who was standing beside him. He . . . well, he’d already discerned that the other had to be part of one of their foreign envoys, but it was still hard to keep his cool when he realised that the man beside him was of an incredibly high standing. That and the fact that he undeniably held magic. Taeyong couldn’t see auras, even if he’d heard that could be a thing some experienced, but he could _feel_ the energy on this man, could feel the strength behind it.

“You look a little out of place,” the man hummed, popping the food into his lips and smiling. Despite his sharp features and the kittenish curl to his lips, his words didn’t seem to hold any malice whatsoever, like somehow this was just a friendly conversation. “Here early?”

“Sort of, your . . .”

“Oh, gods no,” the man laughed, shaking his head which caused some of the glitter spread through dark brown hair to shimmer in the air around him. “I’m no royal, just an advisor — Kim Jongdae, at your service,” Jondae mused, bowing his head a little, and Taeyong couldn’t help the way he relaxed a little.

“Uh, Lee Taeyong, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He tried to remember his manners, ducking his own head down a little and taking note of the white and silver clothes the other was dressed in, the diamonds encrusted in everything he wore. From the north, then. “I’m merely the court healer, sorry to disappoint.” That seemed to spark interest in the shorter male’s eyes, something  keen and sharp and almost feline, the corners of his lips twitching.

“Merely a court healer, you say? How odd, you remind me of—“

“Dae, come here, they’re almost due,” another voice spoke up, firm but not aggressive. Still a definitive summons. Okay, _that_ had to be the king, then, given the crystal crown that sat on top of inky black hair; as if the crown didn’t give it away, his clothing was a clear sign of his position, somehow even more lavish than Jondae’s own.

“Apologies, Taeyong. Perhaps I’ll see you later,” the man beside him hummed, offering a little smile before walking back over to his king. Taeyong couldn’t deny he was surprised to see the way an arm slid around Jondae’s waist, the way that they seemed to speak so softly to each other, the king’s previously icy gaze melting into something so warm and tender. Just an advisor, huh? It seemed that Jongin wasn’t the only king who had magic close by.

Taeyong barely had time to think about that before a hush fell over the crowd. For a moment, he worried something was wrong, but when he turned to follow everyone’s gaze . . . well, he understood.

It was Jongin he saw first, front and centre with his silver hair slicked back and dressed in the most regal clothing he’d ever seen the other wearing, ornate dark clothing lined with gold and a blue velvet cape which hung from his shoulders; the gold crown perched atop his head was encrusted with a blue sapphire so large and carefully carved that it’s dozens of faces reflected the light like a prism. He looked absolutely ethereal, but they all did.

On his left side Ten followed, hand curled around the elder’s bicep as they descended the stairs, and on his right was Mark in gorgeous golden armour that was decorative but undeniably still functional. He knew he and Lucas would be on duty tonight, but their presence was still important. Lucas looked just as stunning, following a step or two behind mark, and it didn’t take Taeyong long to spot the blue on them too, not just the capes behind them but the ring each of them wore, encrusted with a matching sapphire.

Baekhyun was on the left behind Ten, mirroring Lucas, black suit with a blue sash around his waist , sapphires glimmering against his ears, and Taeyong almost thought he saw the elder scan the crowd before settling on him, expression unreadable. His eyes were shimmering in the light, lower lashes rimmed with some of that kohl that Ten always kept handy, but they were so incredibly intense, focused on him in a way that made his stomach curl.

For a moment Taeyong was so distracted that he hadn’t even realised the fact that Taemin hadn’t been with the entourage, until he finally appeared in all his glory at the top of the stairs. Taeyong stopped breathing for a moment, the air around him vibrating as he took it all in. Ash blond hair was carefully combed back save for one side where his fringe was falling down into his face, honeyed skin glowing under the light of the lanterns as he started to descend the stairs to join everyone else. Taemin had an air around him that was paramount — the sort that demanded attention without him ever opening his mouth, and he knew he wasn’t the only one he saw it.

Unlike most of the people staring on, he had an inkling of why, and it all laid in the other’s nature, with the fact that his predominantly otherworldly heritage only accentuated how ethereal he always appeared. Ten had said Taemin had power people could only ever dream of, that his power had no limit due to his choice of source, something that only being what he was could ever allow. Taeyong felt like he could see the way that lust rose in the crowd, the way that the elder drew it into himself as eyes surveyed the room lazily.

The shirt he wore was long sleeved, but it did nothing to make him look modest — it was unbuttoned low enough to see past his chest and reveal plenty of glistening skin, the blue satin shifting with his every step and only adding to the illusion. It was enough to grant the audience a taste without allowing them to indulge. A walking dream pulled forth from your deepest fantasies. His clothes weren’t the most lavish, free of embellishments of any kind, but on a man like Taemin it didn’t matter; the only jewellery he wore was a bracelet around his right wrist, gold metal intertwined with blue stones in what appeared to be a sort of cuff. Something that showed his loyalty to Jongin just like the rest of them

Taeyong knew anyone in this ballroom who had even an inkling of magic would be able to feel it, that aura that rolled around him and broadcasted unbridled power. He didn’t know a lot about politics, had never had a reason to learn, but Taeyong knew enough these day to recognise that it was a purposeful move. Everyone would know they had unrivalled power at their side, and whilst power would always call forth challengers who were desperate to usurp, it showed just how sure Jongin was that Taemin was stronger than anyone that could dare to stand against them. That he’d remain loyal to him no matter what others could offer.

Taeyong merely stood in the crowd and watched as they all reached the bottom of the stairs. He was close enough to the front that Jongin seemed to notice him rather quickly, like he’d been looking, and Taeyong made sure to smile a little. He’d promised he’d be here and he’d keep that promise, for his king.

Once they’d actually arrived people started talking again, undoubtedly lots of gossip, but rather than watching as his friends headed to the raised platform to sit he focused on walking around, trying to blend in as much as he possibly could and eventually caving to accept the food being offered when the waitstaff kept insisting. In hindsight, they were probably doing so because he looked important. Taeyong wasn’t accustomed to events like this and quite frankly didn’t know where to start, though he didn’t feel as out of place as he’d first expected — maybe it was Ten’s work with his current appearance, but looks wise he blended in with the crowd, and he was trying his best not to come across as a kitten in a room of lions.

Taeyong tried to channel sort of that confidence and kept his head high, shoulders straight like Ten had coached him as he walked around, occasionally nodding or offering a smile when he passed someone, oblivious to the fact eyes followed him wherever he went, like moths to a flame.

He could do this.

—

Lucas hadn’t been to something like this in a long, long time, long enough that it felt like his first time all over again. Beautiful women draped in dresses that twirled around them as they moved and men dressed in their finest clothes, laughing and talking as soft music filled the air, a feeling of excitement bubbling around everyone as the festivities for the night began. It was a shame that he couldn’t partake in the festivities in the way that everyone else was, but he had a job to do, and it was worth it just to be able to see.

Besides, everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves a fair bit. Mark was on the other side of the ballroom and slowly walking around, not as much mingling but mores keeping an eye out to make sure that nothing went amiss tonight, and the other’s were all up by the table. Jongin settled into his throne with Taemin seated by his side, expression void of anything and impervious to any of the gossip or stares. Ten was, well, being himself, perched on the side of Jongin’s chair like an overgrown house cat, a position that he’d seen both he and Taemin favour in the past — it was a position of power, really, one that certainly demanded attention and respect. Baekhyun was on the other side, leaning back in his seat with his gaze half focused on Ten, seemingly amused with whatever the pair were talking about.

And then there was Taeyong.

Taeyong, who was flitting around the room like he was born for it, who looked like a prince himself, something utterly otherworldly. It looked like Ten had plastered the night sky to his chest just as he had the roof, but nothing was brighter than the other’s eyes and the sapphire hanging at his chest that matched his own ring, matched all the other gifts that Jongin had given out. He wondered if the other knew the significance behind that necklace.

The thing was, Taeyong didn’t look all that different to what he usually did, save for the fancy clothes and the fact his hair was back to an inky black that contrasted his skin — he’d always been breathtaking, the sort that was almost too perfect, but the difference tonight was that he looked . . . well, confident. He looked like a prince. The blue in his outfit was minimal enough that he’d already heard a few people asking if he was one of their foreign guests, either a noble or royalty. Gods, he certainly fit the part. Lucas’s mind was having trouble picking who to stare at tonight.

“Anything odd?” Mark asked as they crossed paths again, looking more mature than ever as he surveyed the room with a hand on his shoulder. Lucas just shook his head, more relaxed than he probably should’ve been, but relaxed didn’t mean he was slacking on his job. He was just allowing himself to enjoy it all.

“What about you, Mark? I saw a few ladies accost you earlier. Think the drinks were poisoned?” He teased, earning a shove to his chest and a roll of dark eyes.

“I’m not drinking on the job. Besides—“

“I know, I know,” Lucas hummed, squeezing Mark’s shoulder before offering a hefty pat and pulling back. “Do you think Taemin will be upset he’s been upstaged?” He asked, nodding his head over towards where Taeyong was standing with a group of foreign nobles, laughing and commanding the attention of everyone around him without even realising it.

“Probably not,” Mark chuckled, eyes following his gaze and staring for a little too long before he finally glanced back to the table. “Think Ten will be?”

“Ten? Nah, he’ll be too proud.”

Lucas had been tempted to accept a drink, but Mark had been right about them still needing to keep their wits about them and despite his often jovial nature, he wasn’t going to take this lightly. That didn’t mean he couldn’t eat, though, and each time one of those platters passed him the tall male would be sure to reach out and grab a few morsels to shove into his mouth. What could he say? The food was really good.

“Lucas, save me,” a voice spoke up in front of him, a little breathless and desperate, and when he looked back from where he’d been eying a pair in the crowd he was greeted with the sight of none other than Taeyong.

“I . . . what?” He breathed, brain having trouble focusing on anything other than the male in front of him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I just— please, I don’t want to talk to anyone else right now,” Taeyong laughed, shuffling a little closer and angling his body pointedly towards him so that no one else would try to interrupt the conversation. Ah. Lucas took his hand off the hilt of his sword and smiled, still staring a little. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the other look so _alive_.

“Busy night, hmm? I’ve seen you talking to everyone,” he couldn’t help but tease a little. It was worth it to see the way Taeyong flushed, but he didn’t shy away or hide his smile like he usually did.

“Gods, I don’t get it, I keep trying to get away but every time I take a step there’s someone else and I don’t want to be _rude_ , but I have no idea what they’re talking about.” Lucas chuckled at that, shaking his head before reaching out to brush some glitter off Taeyong’s cheek. He propped his hip against the wall, eyes glancing out at the crowd; he didn’t miss the looks of envy, nor the way people were watching and waiting for Taeyong to be free again. They really were like vultures.

“Why don’t you go sit? People won’t bother you as much up there.” At least not until the dancing started, at which point everyone would be mingling on the ballroom floor.

“Up with the others?” He could see the way Taeyong glanced over, eyes lingering on their friends, no doubt seeing Ten feed Jongin a morsel of food from his fingers before leaning in to whisper something that had them both laughing. There was a longing there he knew far too well. Lucas may not have been a strategist like Mark, may not have endless knowledge like Ten or have wit like Baekhyun, but he wasn’t dumb, and if there was one thing he knew better than most it was human emotions. “No, I don’t . . . I think I’d like to stay down here with you.”

Lucas just smiled softly at that, nodding and opening his mouth to talk again, but before he could there was a clinking of glasses and the music died down a little. Everyone’s attention turned to the front of the room, where Jongin was standing and looking out at the crowd. He knew their king was nervous given this was his first public appearance at such a scale — it was understandable. But he had all of them. The other’s stayed seated but he knew that Taemin’s hand was likely on Jongin’s back, a gentle reassurance that held more than just words. He wasn’t alone.

“Welcome, all of you — from the citizens of this very city to those who’ve travelled further, some who’ve even ventured across seas to be here today. It gives me great pleasure to know our kingdom has friends from such wonderful lands, many I’ve visited during my own adventures. That is a story for another time, though, one I’ll happily share if I cross paths with you tonight. Tonight is a celebration of a new era, one I hope all of you will share with me. I hope to be the king you all deserve.” Lucas’s smile softened at that and he glanced to Taeyong, watching his reactions as Jongin’s speech continued, thanking all of the envoys that’d come individually, then the people of the city, then, well, them.

“Someone once told me that all of our lives are threads, sewn into one monumental tapestry that is the sum of the universe. Sometimes, if we’re lucky enough, we can find the other end of our thread, or the ones we find along the way; I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.”

“To the king,” a smooth voice interjected, Taemin standing and raising his glass as the other hand settled on Jongin’s nap. Everyone followed suite and brought their own cups up, cheering for their ruler with an earnest adoration that Lucas couldn’t help but mirror, even if he had no cup of his own to join in. “Long may he reign.”

After the cheering subsided the music started up again. It was a little louder now and held a tune better suited to dancing, drawing couples out onto the dance floor as those who weren’t planning to join shuffled back towards the sides of the room, leaving plenty of space. Lucas watched as Taemin and Jongin exchanged words before their king laughed, giving in as Baekhyun got up and reached over to tug his sleeve, nodding towards the dance floor; he wasn’t surprised that Ten stayed behind for now and settled next to Taemin, letting Jongin and Baekhyun walk down to join in on the festivities.

“Aren’t you going to dance, Yongie? It seems that a few people are interested,” he spoke up, looking back to the shorter male whose gaze was now focused on him. There were plenty of people glancing over, likely hoping to ask or be asked.

“I don’t know how,” Taeyong admitted quietly. Oh, so that was the problem rather than a lack of want — Lucas could fix that.

“Come on then, I’ll teach you,” Lucas insisted, giving the other only a moment to process that before he was guiding him out amongst the dancing pairs, drawing one hand into his own and the other to settle on his shoulder. Maybe he didn’t know all the dances of this country, but dance was something universal; all that mattered was the rhythm, and that he could do regardless.

“Lucas I—“

“Just follow my lead,” he rumbled, squeezing gently with the hand on Taeyong’s waist before he took the first step, giving his partner time to adjust and follow suite before moving again. It was a little awkward at first, with lots of laughter and mumbled apologies, but eventually they fell into a rhythm, twisting and gliding amongst the other dancers, staring into each other’s eyes as the lanterns shone above them. “See? Not so hard,” Lucas murmured, voice quiet but loud enough for the other.

“Lucas, I’m not very good at this,” Taeyong laughed, but he was laughing, and that was all that mattered. They were having fun, and they certainly weren’t the worst.

“Nonsense, you’re doing great. I say so.”

“Oh really? And where did you learn to dance, Yukhei?” Lucas’s eyes softened a little at that and his grin shifted to something more private, brown hair falling down over his forehead as he spun the other around again and drew him back in. He liked it when Taeyong called him by his birth name, even if he’d abandoned it so long ago; it was different to when Ten would call him Xuxi, but he adored it equally.

“A boy like me was expected to know such things. Dancing is very important to my people and I had to be able to handle myself at balls.” Taeyong seemed to cock his head a little as he considered that statement, though Lucas wasn’t sure why.

“Were your family nobles?” Lucas shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Hard to explain, it was different there.” The shorter male accepted his explanation with a hum, and though Lucas wouldn’t point it out he hadn’t messed up once even as they’d talked, like the less he thought about it the easier it became for him. Trust Taeyong to be good at everything. He was something special, that much they could all agree on — it was why all of this was so hard.

—

“Care to trade?” A voice hummed from behind Taeyong and when he turned his head a little he noticed Jongin dancing beside them, Baekhyun spinning the other around with ease before letting go. It was only as Lucas let go of him during a spin that he realised the question hadn’t been aimed at him. For a moment he panicked, ready to catch himself, but Jongin caught his arm with practiced ease and pulled him in close, winking over his shoulder at where Baekhyun and Lucas now were, already metres away and dancing again. 

“You could’ve given me more notice,” Taeyong admonished, but there was still a smile on his lips. It was hard to focus on anything else when Jongin was this close, even if there were dozens of eyes on them, on _him_ as he danced with the king. It was but a whisper in the mass of thoughts whirring around in his mind.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Jongin drawled with a light in his eyes that Taeyong usually only got to see in the woods. “Are you enjoying yourself?” The elder twirled him around slowly as the song shifted to a more subdued tempo, something inherently more romantic as most couples moved closer.

“Yes.” Taeyong had never expected that he’d enjoy tonight even half as much as he already was, but he wasn’t ashamed to admit that. He felt . . . like someone, he supposed, someone who had worth — someone who people saw when they glanced over rather than passing him by like he was nothing more than part of the scenery. Maybe it was his attitude and the way he’d always looked at things, but he felt as though things had been steadily changing in the two months since Jongin and the others had arrived. For the better. He felt alive, finally, like he’d been living a half life until this point. “It’s been a lot, and I’m a little tired, but I . . . I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he admitted quietly, staring up into warm brown eyes and finding himself drowning in them a little. When he was with Jongin, the rest of the world had a habit of fading away, but the feeling wasn’t exclusive.

“You can go if you need to, Taeyong. The fact you came here for me, that you wore this . . .” the king trailed off, fingers moving between them to graze over the sapphire hanging at his chest. “It means so much to me. You’ve made me so happy, I hope you know that.” Taeyong stared back and swallowed thickly as he tried to ignore the incessant hammering of his pulse. He, gods, there was so much he wanted to say. More than that he wanted to close the distance, to reach up and pull Jongin into a kiss like he had with Mark barely over two weeks ago.

That was what really got to him, that surge of emotions that had his chest aching and tongue desperate to speak words he knew were forbidden. He was— there was something wrong with him. Taeyong managed a smile even as his eyes stung. “I’d do anything for you,” he admitted in a barely audible murmur, leaning his head against Jongin’s chest and, just for now, letting himself have this.

They stayed like that for a while, just swaying, barely moving amongst the crowd of dancers. Taeyong had closed his eyes at one point and had focused on letting Jongin’s warm energy wash over him; it was like the sun shining out after a rainy day, soaking into his skin in a way that reminded him of stolen moment laying in wildflowers as they laughed. He only forced himself to pull away when he felt Ten’s magic crawl over his skin, something equally as reassuring as the other approached. “Mind if I steal your partner, Yongie? Taemin left me all alone.” Taeyong just offered a soft smile and shook his head. He glanced at Jongin one last time as their fingers fell apart, drinking in the softness in his gaze before hugging Ten as he passed.

Taeyong felt like the world was spinning a little, like no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t quite focus. Familiar faces passed him, from Baekhyun and Mark dancing to Lucas locked in conversation with a man he didn’t know, Jondae whom he’d met earlier dancing with his king and another he hadn’t seen, but Taeyong didn’t approach anyone — he kept walking, quietly working his way through the crowd and following that tug in his chest until he finally broke free and managed to slip out onto a balcony. The dark haired male inhaled deeply, gulping in the fresh air like he hadn’t taken a breath in days, hands curled around the railing as he stared out at the city. It was filled with music and cheers, the whole main road illuminated with lights of every kind. Everything felt so happy.

It took him a few moments to realise that there was another figure out here on the balcony, one that’d been here before he’d ever stepped out and could see the tears making slow trails down his cheeks.

“You’re crying,” Taemin spoke quietly as Taeyong just kept staring at the city, not even bothering to wipe them away. It wasn’t phrased like a question but there was still a hesitance to his voice, like he was unsure, like he’d once again managed to catch the other off guard again. It was probably rude, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer — each time he spoke to Taemin he was left with more questions than last, and he just . . . he couldn’t. Not tonight. “Did someone do something?”

“No,” Taeyong finally murmured. “I’m just . . . happy.” It sounded so dumb, and maybe it was. He didn’t care. He just couldn’t comprehend why something so good hurt so much.

“It’s not just that.” Taeyong pressed his lips together a little, finally glanced over at the other. Even out here, illuminated only by some lanterns, Taemin looked so beautiful, so otherworldly, and that tether in his chest was trying to draw him forward no matter how much he tried to fight it. He watched as the other stepped forwards, but he didn’t pull back. When Taemin stepped in front of him he despised the way his heart danced as warm hands settled on his cheeks, wiping away those tears. “Tell me,” the other implored. “I’ll fix it.”

“I don’t want to make another bargain, Taemin, not when I still don’t understand the last one. Besides, this is something even _you_ can’t fix.” There was silence for a moment, and then the other spoke in the softest voice he’d ever heard.

“I’m not proposing a bargain.” It was such a simple admission, something so basic, but it meant more than even Taeyong could comprehend; Taemin didn’t do favours, not when it didn’t benefit him, and how could Taeyong’s happiness do anything for him, really? The answer wasn’t obvious. “Ten told you what I am?” Taeyong merely nodded, finding himself leaning into those hands and tentatively setting a hand on the other’s chest. For a second he was back in the forest, something he remembered clearly these days rather than the fragmented vision he’d been able to recall at first. “Are you scared?”

Taeyong didn’t insult him with an instant answer — he thought about it. Taemin was a lot of things. He’d seemed moody and unreachable and intimidating, and at times Taeyong had been so incredibly confused and nervous that he’d assumed it was something akin to fear, but the more he thought about it the more he realised that’d never truly been the case. Even back then, there’d been a part of him that’d known that Taemin would never hurt him. That he could trust him wholeheartedly.

“No.”

Taemin seemed to search his gaze for something after his answer like he was expecting to find it a lie, but there was nothing but pure honesty. Taeyong thought that maybe it was a surprise. “I know it’s you,” he added softly. “Can I see them?” The fact that the elder didn’t ask what he was talking about was all the confirmation that he’d ever needed, because Taeyong had come to realise that words weren’t Taemin’s forte; not the words that dripped thick from his tongue like molasses, sweet and sticky, luring you into the perfect trap, but the genuine ones, the ones that mattered. For a second it almost seemed the taller male wasn’t going to grant his request, and then he watched as Taemin’s eyes fluttered shut, a slow exhale leaving him.

When his eyes opened again they shone amber in the dark, pupils narrowed into vertical slits that Taeyong had once considered terrifying, but now they filled him with a warmth that ignited through his whole body and made him feel like he was home. Emboldened, he reached up. His fingers grazed over the other’s cheek and he missed the way his breath hitched, instead focusing on staring into the other’s eyes. “They’re beautiful,” Taeyong murmured as the corners of his lips curled into the softest grin, something so utterly innocent.

“Why?” He asked as he traced over the furrow in Taemin’s brow, other hand settled over the warm skin above his heart that beat much slower than any human’s ever could have. “You’ve been in my dreams since I was young.”

“Your soul was like a star,” Taemin spoke quietly, “in a sky void of anything — I grabbed hold and I didn’t let go. I never realised that following Jongin would lead me here, not until I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” That got him silence for a moment, but it wasn’t a tense silence.

“I’d always thought you were nothing more than a figment of my imagination — your soul is so pure, Taeyong, so bright, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I thought if I ignored it it’d go away,” he admitted, “but then I made that bargain, and it . . . I feed off lust, Taeyong. I harness it and turn it into _power_. But that night you were putting off so much energy that I couldn’t contain it; I came so close to losing control.”

“But you fixed the whole city,” Taeyong reasoned, brows furrowing a little as he spoke even with the awe in his tone. “I saw it, and we didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t need to _do something_ to feed. It’s about the energy, not the act. What you gave me wasn’t lust, not entirely, but it gave me enough energy to rebuild that city ten times over.” Oh. “I wanted you to disappear. _You_ scared _me_ , Taeyong.”

“And now?”

“Now . . . now I pray to gods I don’t believe in that you’ll stay.” Taeyong’s eyes widened at that, barely even discernible in the low lighting, but when his eyes crinkled a little and his lips curled into a wide grin, something so warm and bright that it hurt his cheeks, but he didn’t care. His hand slid down to rest on Taemin’s shoulder and with the other he reached out to tangle his finger’s with Taemin’s, eyes shining in a way you’d almost miss.

“Will you dance with me?” It was a childish request, one that anyone else would probably question, but Taemin simply looked into his eyes and nodded, eyes fading back to something more inherently human as his hadn’t settled on Taeyong’s waist. The music from inside wasn’t very loud out here, but it was enough for them to create their own rhythm, dancing slowly around the small balcony and just looking at each other — it wasn’t visible, but Taeyong could feel the way the air was vibrating around them, a resonance that he couldn’t understand nor explain.

Taeyong wasn’t quite sure how long they danced like that. Maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour, but it didn’t really matter regardless. Taemin sent him into a slow spin and when he was pulled back in he was pulled flush to the other’s chest, both of them sharing a long look where the elder seemed to be searching for something before it just, well, clicked. Taeyong slid his hand up to the other’s jaw as Taemin leant in, pressing their lips together gently; it was barely a caress at first, soft lips grazing so softly over his own that it was almost intangible before they returned, stealing another kiss, than another, each sweeter than the last and far from hurried.

It took a few moments before they broke apart, but even then it was only a few inches, enough for their foreheads to bump together. Then something peculiar happened.

Taemin smiled.

Not one of those carefully measured smiles he’d give the crowd or plaster on at dinner, not even one of those ones that held promises that’d have your thighs shaking, but something soft and genuine that stretched wide across his face even as he hid it in Taeyong’s shoulder. The only time he’d ever seen something similar was when he’d caught a moment between Taemin and Jongin at dinner, where the latter had kicked Taemin under the table and bothered him until he’d rolled his eyes with a hint of a smile and told him to cut it out. This, this was for him. He looked so . . . no, human wasn’t the right word, because that didn’t matter, and he didn’t, not when the kiss had brought back those feline eyes. He looked so alive.

Taeyong had wanted to stay on that balcony forever, but eventually he’d forced himself to pull away, if only because Taemin had kept insisting that he needed to go keep an eye on Jongin lest he accidentally start a war. “You really think that?” he’d asked as they stole one last, innocent kiss.

“No, Jongin will be fine without me,” Taemin admitted, stroking his cheek once more, “but I’m telling myself he won’t so I can make myself leave you alone.” Taeyong had just laughed at that, but he’d forced himself to set a hand between them and stop Taemin from leaning in again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” They both knew he wasn’t talking about now, about tonight — he was definitely going to go back to his room after this and get some sleep, though Taeyong was unsure of what that would entail; he felt like he was floating on a cloud, almost drunk in a way he wasn’t used to, but Taemin didn’t seem much better off. If he dreamt, would Taemin be there? He didn’t ask. Because he’d be here tomorrow, and each day after, even though he was unsure of what he was going to do when morning came.

Taeyong had slipped out of the ball before anyone could notice and stop him, but he did notice that he hadn’t spotted Mark anywhere — nor Lucas or Baekhyun, though he supposed it wouldn’t be weird if they’d retired. He’d just assumed they’d be on duty all night. Even so he felt guilty as he walked back through the halls to his room, a dumb smile on his lips and a pep in his step. He knew the morning would bring problems but, well, that was a problem for the morning. For now, nothing could ruin his mood.

He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even realised it at first, hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary as he passed through empty rooms, one with the door only slightly ajar. It wasn’t until Taeyong almost passed it that he heard it— the noises. Moans and groans and curses in a language he didn’t know but wasn’t unfamiliar with, and the voices themselves were ones he knew far too well. Taeyong’s eyes had been wide in shock as he’d taken in the scene through the gap in the door.

The first thing he saw, because it was hard to miss it, was Lucas. He was nude and flushed, golden skin covered with a fine sheen of sweat and hair plastered to his forehead as he moaned and leant back. Leant back against _Baekhyun_ who had fingers curled into his hair, murmuring obscenities where he sat back on his haunches and rocked their hips together, other hand on Lucas’s hip to keep him close even as his back bowed. They were both naked, completely exposed save for Baekhyun, but their position left little to the imagination of what the elder was doing.

Perhaps the most surprising part of it was the third party involved.

Mark was kneeled in front of them, drinking down Lucas’s moans and stroking his hand over the other’s cock, his own erection flushed and leaking against his stomach. “Don’t you wish he was here?” His friend breathed against the other’s lip, rutting against Lucas a little to seek friction as all Taeyong could do was stare. “Gods, I wish he was.”

Taeyong seemed to snap out of it, taking one step back, then two, and then he turned and ran back down the hall towards his own room, closing the door behind him and pressing his back to it, chest heaving.

Perhaps the worst part was the aching heat in his stomach and the tent in his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“I’ll be fine, and besides, you heard Jongin, he needs you here. If it is magic you’ve taught me so much and I should at least be able to figure out what’s wrong before I come back, and if it’s not then I can heal them.” Ten squeezed him a little tighter before forcing himself to pull back, brows still furrowed just a little as he pushed some of the other’s dark hair back. “What?”
> 
> “Nothing, it’s just a good look on you. Confidence,” he explained. Ten wandered over to one of the many shelves and sifted through a few vials before his fingers curled around one in particular, turning back to where the other male was standing and holding it out for the other to take. “Just in case something happens.” Nightshade./
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	13. Part 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark reflects on his journey until now and struggles to come to terms with some things, all while hell breaks loose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote slow burn in the tags I never expected it to be /this/ slow burn I'm so sorry lmao. I genuinely thought I'd be finished this story at like 25k, I just wanted an excuse to write self indulgent, but I swear these characters have a mind of their own and now I still have so much planned
> 
> I'm sorry for not replying to every single comment, I want nothing more than to as they mean so much to me but I feel terrible if i reply with similar things to different people, I don't want to seem insincere <3 I hope you know I read them religiously and they always make me smile.
> 
> Also the t h e o r i e s ahhHH it's killing me not to give things away, but you'll get some more information in the next few chapter promise c;
> 
> (yes, I'm shamelessly including other nct/exo members as characters because bbies)

Mark hadn’t had to worry about jealousy since he was young, young enough that his voice had still cracked occasionally and puberty had still been a very real problem for him. It wasn’t something he’d ever experienced until they’d met Ten. As a child he’d grown up in the castle walls with nothing but the few clothes he had and whatever food he could get from the kitchens, so when you didn’t have much you learnt that jealousy was irrelevant, that all you needed to focus on was making sure you survived. He’d been young and content.

And then Jongin had come along and changed everything. They’d been friends before there’d ever been an inkling of anything else curling in his chest, unlikely brothers after everything they’d endured together in their efforts to survive, and Mark _had_ been content with that. For a long time, it’d just been them against the world. It was Jongin who’d make sure he was eating well and Jongin who taught him to ride, to hold a blade, Jongin who’d look after him when he was sick and sometimes go without so he’d be comfortable, Jongin who’d curl around him at night and shield him from the cold in winter. It was Jongin who saved his life time and time again — his Jongin.

He’d grown up by Jongin’s side, and there’d never been time to sit down and consider that maybe that adoration he felt was anything more than friendship, brotherhood.

Mark had still been a kid, really, when they’d found Ten, just barely fifteen and still babyfaced compared to the handsome young man that Jongin had become over the years. At first he’d been excited at the prospect of having someone else there and for the first few weeks it was so touch and go with the warlock that it’d never been a problem, but then Ten started warming up to them and it . . . it was good, because Ten was nice to him, but he was _really_ nice to Jongin. They were a more similar age even if Ten was only a year and a bit older than himself and whilst Mark was young he wasn’t _dumb_. He’d see the way Ten would look at Jongin and laugh at his jokes with a hand on his bicep, the way he’d flutter his eyelashes and compliment him.

The way Jongin would smile and flirt back.

Mark hadn’t realised it was jealousy for a long time, he’d just known that it felt like Jongin was slowly being taken away from him. He loved Ten, the elder male was always so kind to him, but he . . . gods, every time he saw the pair sitting together or talking something angry would curl in his stomach and he’d find himself finding a way to interfere, to recapture Jongin’s attention no matter what it took. In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought it was back then; maybe Jongin hadn’t realised, but Ten had.

“You know I’m not trying to take Jongin away from you, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, hyung.”

It wasn’t until he was seventeen and Lucas had joined their little troupe that things had finally boiled over. Anyone had been able to see the way that their newest friend had been smitten with Ten from the start, from the way he hung off his every word to the way he was always touching and demanding attention, but the thing was that Ten and Jongin still shared those looks, looks Mark had grown to hate. Lucas hadn’t been as proficient in their language back then and hadn’t been able to convey his ideas much, which meant Ten had always been by his side; Mark’d had suspicions from the start, but it wasn’t until he went to find Lucas to spar again and had seen them tangled up with each other in the woods that he’d realised he’d been right.

It’d . . . it’d made him feel a lot of things, things he’d been too young to process, but one of the most prominent emotions had been a distinct anger and betrayal. Not for himself, but Jongin. That night he’d been quiet at dinner, poking angrily at the fire and trying (read: failing) not to glare at Ten whenever he heard the other laugh or joke around with Jongin, but eventually he’d snapped.

“No one cares,” he snorted, loud enough for everyone to fall silent, save for Jongin who’d sat up straighter and fixed him with a scalding look.

“Mark, you’ve been rude all afternoon, cut it out and apologise to Ten.”

“No!”

“Mark—“

“No, I’m not going to apologise, I hate him!”

Mark still felt bad for the way he’d seen Ten’s face crumple, the way he’d looked away and murmured that he better go even as Lucas reached out to soothe him, looking angry. That was how you knew you’d fucked up, when Lucas looked at you like you were the problem. Yet it was Jongin who’d been angriest — the elder had gotten up and stormed over to hoist him up by his collar, dragging him away from the fire and past their tents into the woods before pushing him a little, nostrils flaring. “What the hell? What’s gotten into you?”

“Why do you still want him around?” Mark had sobbed as angry tears broke free and fell down his face, voice raised a little. “He and Lucas— I don’t understand, it’s not _fair_ —“

“Mark, you don’t—“

“ _He doesn’t love you like I do_!” Silence had fallen after that and it’d taken a moment for Mark to realise what he’d said, chest heaving, but then the paled and took a step backwards. “I . . . I— no, I’m sorry, I didn’t— that’s not what I meant,” the younger tried to backtrack, looking downright terrified, but before he could take another step Jongin moved forward to tug him into his chest, warm arms wrapping around his frame and holding him in close.

“Just because Ten likes Lucas doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care for me, Mark,” the elder had hummed, voice surprisingly calm as he pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Just like me caring for Ten doesn’t mean that you don’t mean the world to me, okay? You’re not going to lose me.” Mark swallowed thickly before letting himself go and crying against the other’s chest, holding on for dear life, like he’d be swept away by the current if his fingers loosened even a little. “I’ve always been yours, just like you’ll always be mine.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

It’d still taken weeks before he and Jongin had shared their first kiss, but that’d been the beginning of . . . well, everything. Jongin had taught him how to love, but it was Ten who taught him that love didn’t have to be exclusive, that humans had room in their heart for more than just one person. He’d no longer batted an eyelid when Ten and Jongin sat together, he’d often be sitting with them, Ten’s fingers carding through his hair. Lucas had become another close friend to all of them, and Mark hadn’t been scared the first time he’d looked over and realised he wanted to kiss him, he’d just smiled.

By the time Baekhyun had come along, that jealousy had long faded, and by Taemin? By Taemin he’d embraced it, not scared of letting things unfold however they did.

Mark still remembered what that jealousy felt like, though, and the last thing he’d ever expected was for it to rise it’s ugly head when it came to Taeyong. He’d been surprised by all those feelings that’d bubbled to the surface when they’d been reunited and how they’d grown the longer they spent together, but he hadn’t been jealous, not at first, because he, well, he knew he wasn’t alone. There was something special about Taeyong, something none of them could explain

The problem came from secrets, from the way that things unfolded. For one, Jongin had never lied to him before, not really, and to find that he’d been sneaking off into the woods to spend time with Taeyong without any of them knowing had hurt more than he’d care to admit. Not because he cared, but because he’d lied, even if Mark knew that was because the other had thought they’d stop him. He’d have been right. Jongin was a king now, he needed to be more careful. Then there was whatever the hell was going on with Taemin. Things had been rocky lately given how odd the other was acting and none of them had been able to get an inkling of the truth from him — especially when he kept disappearing with excuses on top of excuses about having things to do.

Then he’d kissed Taeyong and Taeyong had kissed him back and he’d thought things would change, that it’d all fall into place; things didn’t get awkward at all, but there were no more kisses, just smiles and stolen looks because Taeyong needed time. Hell, Mark would wait forever, that wasn’t an issue.

The issue was that Mark was young and perhaps not as carefree as Lucas was, so when he checked the balcony during the ball to find Taemin and Taeyong kissing as they danced around in the open air, he couldn’t help that pit that fissured open inside him again. No one was communicating anymore, talking things through. Even Taeyong was keeping secrets that he couldn’t figure out for the life of him. He’d been hurt and angry as he’d headed back inside, and Baekhyun had been able to read him instantly. Mark had let the elder lead him and Lucas away without hesitation, desperate for that reaffirmation, that reassurance.

“Don’t you wish he was here?” Mark had found himself groaning against Lucas’s mouth, talking to both of them really as Baekhyun fucked up into the man between them. He shifted a little to grind his own cock against Lucas’s stomach, leaving a trail of viscous liquid as he drunk down all those moans falling from his lips. “Gods, I wish he was.” That seemed to have Lucas moaning even louder, but it was accompanied by a curse from Baekhyun who met his gaze over the other’s shoulder, eyes smudged and dark.

“You like that, puppy? Like the idea of Yongie being here to see you like this, to touch you? Think he’d let you have him?”

“Please,” was all Lucas had whined in a soft sob, and Mark had taken pity on him, dropping down lower and taking the other’s length into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as the taller male had shuddered and spilled onto his tongue with a loud cry.

—

Taeyong wasn’t going to go as far as saying that he was avoiding anyone, but he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t be having trouble meeting the trio’s gaze. Truth be told, he wasn’t even quite sure what he was supposed to make of what he’d seen. He’d thought . . . well, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d thought. He _knew_ Baekhyun had a habit of flirting with everyone and he _knew_ Lucas was just incredibly kind to all of them, but Mark was the one that’d kissed him first. Taeyong wasn’t sure what any of this meant but it was a lot to unpack. For one, it changed everything. If he’d thought anything he’d thought that maybe Lucas and Ten were more than friends, but maybe not — then again maybe this was just their way of relieving stress, and it wasn’t like Taeyong was jealous, because he and Mark had never discussed what they were, but he was so damn confused.

Just when he’d thought things were starting to make sense, life had decided to throw him off the deep end again.

The thing was, it was making him feel awkward around _everyone_. Not to the point he was going to lock himself away and hide, but Taeyong felt like he had a lot to try and figure out, not just in terms of his friends and their extracurricular activities but in himself too, especially after what’d happened the night of the ball.

Taeyong woke up the morning after with a stiffness in the back of his neck from the few drinks he’d been handed and a warmth in his chest that’d had him rolling over to bury a smile into his pillow. His dreams hadn’t been filled with darkness and mystique last night, they’d been simple but pleasant, the later events of the night replaying in his mind so he could commit every little detail to memory. The pillow beneath him almost smelt like ash for a moment, a smell he’d come to favour rather than shy away from. It’d taken him a little while to finally drag himself out of his warm covers and get dressed but he was at least glad to see that he’d had the sense to hang the clothes he’d shed last night; Taeyong had hesitated in front of the mirror as he laced up the front of his shirt, glancing at the beautiful gem hanging off it’s stand before he reached out to slide over his neck. It felt warm, resting there against his chest.

He’d been quiet at breakfast, focused on eating his food, but it’d been a pleasant surprise when Taemin had taken the seat beside him like it was the most casual thing in the world even though it left everyone staring with barely veiled surprise and confusion. “Can you pass me the salt, Taeyong?” His lips twitched a little before he nodded and handed it to the elder, enjoying the little spark that settled over his skin when their finger’s brushed. Taeyong heard Ten choke on his juice and glanced over to where the other was staring with wide eyes. He’d sort of forgotten that Ten could sense energy better than any of them, that he’d be able to see whatever the hell that was. Despite that, the other didn’t say anything, just focused on eating again and stealing looks at them every so often.

Taeyong couldn’t bring himself to look at a certain trio much, but he did notice that Mark seemed angry, stabbing at his plate with much more force than necessary, refusing to even glance his way. He didn’t know if he’d done something wrong or . . . no, there was no way his friend could’ve known that he’d seen them, and even then, that didn’t warrant anger, right? They’d been the ones that left the door open. Either way it was a bit of a tense breakfast, like everyone could feel that things were off, but it seemed the day wasn’t going to stop there.

One of the doors to the dining hall opened and a knight stepped in, head bowed as he walked over to address Jongin. “An influenza has struck an entire town over night, your majesty, it seems to be abnormal.” Abnormal as in magic. Everyone at the table tensed a little, and suddenly seeing his friends in the throes of passion wasn’t his biggest worry anymore. “They’re requesting a healer.”

“I’ll go,” Taeyong spoke up before anyone else could even get a word in. “I’m the best healer we have, and whilst I may not be able to use magic Ten is a good teacher; I should be able to combat it.” He sounded so sure of himself as he stood. The timing of this was too coincidental for it to truly be any sort of coincidence, and if it was magically inclined then they needed to deal with it as soon as possible. Given the fact they had a number of royals here in the castle that’d be departing over the next few days they all knew that this had to be a purposeful move, that even after last night there was a snake amongst them, someone who wished them harm. “I won’t be missed here,” he added pointedly. More than ever, they’d need people here to make sure nothing went wrong.

He could see the reluctance in Jongin’s eyes, and for a moment he thought his king was going to say no, but they both knew he was right. “You’ll need a guard, and you’re to come back with a report instantly if it’s beyond you.”

“I’ll go too.” Mark was the one who stood next, jaw set and a determination in his eyes. Taeyong wanted to disappear.

“Me too,” Lucas and Ten spoke up at the same time, but Jongin shook his head.

“No, I’ll need you both here to figure out what the hell we’re dealing with. Mark and Taeyong will go, and they’ll be _careful_.”

—

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Ten asked as he watched Taeyong pack his bag, a sinking feeling in his stomach even as he counted over the vials and jars to make sure that the other would have a good supply of anything he might need. “You can change your mind.” The other just turned and smiled, stepping over to hug him. Ten sighed a little but leant into it, face pressed into Taeyong’s shoulder.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t have faith in me?”

“Of course not,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes even if the other couldn’t see his face. Taeyong was an exception student— the best he’d ever had, in fact, even if he was technically the only one. 

“I’ll be fine, and besides, you heard Jongin, he needs you here. If it is magic then you’ve taught me so much and I should at least be able to figure out what’s wrong before I come back, and if it’s not then I can heal them.” Ten squeezed him a little tighter before forcing himself to pull back, brows still furrowed just a little as he pushed some of the other’s dark hair back. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just a good look on you. Confidence,” he explained. Ten wandered over to one of the many shelves and sifted through a few vials before his fingers curled around one in particular, turning back to where the other male was standing and holding it out for the other to take. “Just in case something happens.” Nightshade.

“Why would I need poison—“

“You can never be too safe,” Ten simply insisted, forcing Taeyong to take the bottle and tuck it away before forcing a smile. He had to have faith that the tingling at the base of his neck was just worry and nothing more, certainly not one of his infamous ‘bad feelings’. Taeyong and Mark would both be fine, and by the time they returned they’d likely have determined who or what’d happened and dealt with the source anyway. It’d all work out. “When you come home, I have new things to teach you.”

“I can’t wait.” 

—

Taeyong was really glad for the fact that Jongin had taught him how to ride a horse, because if not he would’ve been stuck on the back of Mark’s right now, and that certainly wouldn’t have been ideal — instead he was settled on the back of a bay gelding he’d been allowed to choose from the stables, one the stablehand had warned him could be rowdy but seemed to have warmed to him instantly. He was incredibly docile even now after an hour of riding, Taeyong’s hand smoothing gently over his corded neck.

He and Mark had barely spoken a word since they’d departed the city gates, other than discussing the route to the town which was about five hours from the city; thankfully they’d be able to get there before dark, try to start helping before the sun went down.

Taeyong was so focused on the path that he hadn’t even realised that Mark and his steed had stopped until he realised he was alone. He instantly tugged on the reigns a little, got his horse to slow down and turn a little to where he could get a better look at his companion who was stopped maybe two metres back, looking around with his hand resting over his shoulder on his bow. Taeyong’s brows furrowed and he looked around too, swallowing thickly as he picked up on what he was pretty sure was hooves against the forest floor, getting louder and louder. Mark raised a finger to his lips before pulling his bow forward and nocking an arrow with practice ease, bowstring drawn just enough to prepare him like he was sure of a fight, body angled towards the source of the sound.

Taeyong watched as he looked down the arrow, aiming at a nondescript thicket, but something . . .

“Wait!” He cried out, startling Mark’s horse just a little and almost throwing him off balance, but it was enough of a distraction that the other didn’t shoot as another horse came through the trees, an all too familiar face settled on it’s back and smiling at him. “Jongin, what are you doing here? You said you needed to stay.”

“No,” the king hummed, moving over to where they were and steadying Mark who just shrugged off his hand, at least having tucked his bow back. “I said I needed _them_ to stay, I trust them to figure out what’s going on. I couldn’t just let you both ride out here not knowing what’s waiting for you.”

“We would’ve been fine,” Mark mumbled. “You shouldn’t be out here, it’s too dangerous.” That seemed to spark a glint in Jongin’s eyes, something less than pleased and perhaps a bit of a challenge.

“I’m the king,” he said, the first time Taeyong had ever heard him pull rank. “You’re supposed to follow my orders, Mark, and I say all three of us are going — these are my people too.” Mark stared, eyes burning and jaw ticking before he simply tugged at his reigns and kept riding, leaving Taeyong and Jongin to catch up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why he’s . . .” Taeyong trailed off, offering a sympathetic little smile. Even so, he couldn’t pretend that he thought this was a good idea, even if part of him was glad to have Jongin here, if just to break the tension. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, won’t Taemin probably come and fetch you, since you probably snuck away again?”

“Taemin? Nah, he wanted me come. He knows I can take care of myself and he’d rather someone be here with Mark, and you.”

Oh. Taeyong couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking his head as he spurred his horse on and kept riding.

It was just over five hours collectively before they reached a town that, in any other circumstances, he would’ve called quaint. Instead Taeyong shivered as they approached along the road, his horse whinnying and turning it’s head a little before he straightened up and kept going. He could feel it hanging in the air, the smell of _death_ , something his companions certainly didn’t seem to pick up on. Maybe they couldn’t sense it the way he could. The street was empty until they got closer and dismounted, heads peaking out from windows and doors before the townspeople started to file out, keeping their distance, most covering their mouths.

The boy who walked out to greet them couldn’t have been much older than himself but a little taller with honey brown hair and deep dimples that made him seem even more youthful; there was a tiredness to his face though, a pain that Taeyong knew far too well, and he knew before he opened his mouth there’d been deaths already. “Jaehyun,” the boy offered, but he didn’t offer his hand, just bowed his head a little. “You’re from the castle? To help?” He sounded like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Taeyong nodded and handed off his reigns to Jongin, stepping forward as he looked around. There didn’t seem to be many people out here, and some looked like they shouldn’t have been out of bed; if it was spreading this fast they may not have had enough healthy people to tend to the sick. With the timeline he had so far, this had only started perhaps forty eight hours ago. “I’m Taeyong, the court healer,” he explained, not trying to shake his hand in case the sickness passed through touch. “This is Mark, he’s one of the royal guard, and this is—“

“Jongin,” said male interrupted him. Jongin was dressed no fancier than himself and his first name was common enough that no one would really notice, unless they’d seen him before and could recognise him. “I’m Taeyong’s assistant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“I was jealous.” His words were barely a mumble but they felt like he’d yelled in the silence of the room. “After the kiss I was happy to wait for him but he was getting so close to everyone, to you, and then I saw him kissing Taemin and I— it’s so stupid, I’m like some kid who doesn’t want to share his favourite toy, but I was worried that he—“
> 
> “Mark,” Jongin cut him off with a firm tone, hand sliding to his cheek so that he could force Mark to meet his gaze. There was no anger there but Mark still wanted to shy away. “You’re allowed to feel, sweetheart. What we have isn’t easy, we all knew it never would be, but that’s okay — we just need to work through it together. I think a few of us are a bit guilty of not communicating, yeah? I’m sorry for sneaking off all the time and not telling you, but you’re not the only one who gets nervous.”/
> 
> As always I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	14. Part 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong and his companions investigate the mysterious illness that's swept through an outlying village. Tragedy strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I'm going to say is, uh, don't lose hope? I can't give any spoilers but you'll see.

“My assistant.” Jongin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when Taeyong confirmed his sudden declaration, offering a grateful little smile and focusing on the horses for now. Truth be told, it wasn’t just his own selfish desires to keep the pair safe that’d brought him here, although that was something he couldn’t deny — he knew he couldn’t do much at the castle right now, but Jongin needed to know what was going on and even more importantly who was to blame if this was intentional. Besides, these were his people. If they were suffering on his account he wanted to be here to do all that he could.

“I can’t tell you how thankful we are that you’ve come,” the man, Jaehyun, admitted as he spoke with Taeyong. “We’ve got no idea what we’re doing and our healer was one of the first to pass — nothing we’re doing is working.” Jongin glanced around the crowd and noted that there weren’t many faces to begin with, but those who had ventured out to great them didn’t seem to be in the best of health, most of them pallid and shining with a fever. Part of him wanted nothing more than to send Taeyong and Mark away, the fear of them contracting this illness or worse a constant in the back of his mind, but even though he was their king he knew he couldn’t, both because they were grown men with jobs and also for that exact reason. He was the king. He had a duty to his people, _all_ of them, and he . . . he couldn’t allow himself to be selfish, no matter his fears.

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was worthy of this title, of ruling, not when his heart often fought to overrule his mind.

“Do you have a quarantine set up?” Taeyong asked, but the man just shook his head.

“At first, yes, but it did nothing to stop the spread. It’s all happened so quickly that it didn’t make a difference, and those of us who aren’t infected or are still well enough to tend to the others have been doing all we can.” Jongin watched and waited, waited for _Taeyong’s_ instructions, because no matter his own title he was clueless when it came to what to do in a scenario like this. It was why he’d reluctantly let the other come in the first place, because he knew they had no better healer than Taeyong; he was the best chance they had to figure this out.

“Jongin, can you grab my bag?” He nodded, focusing on unstrapping it from one of their horses. “Mark, you come too, we can leave the horses tethered here — show me where the worst of them are, Jaehyun. We’ll need all the alcohol we can get, as pure as possible, please.” Jongin’s brows furrowed a little as he shouldered the bag, but it didn’t take a genius to discern why he’d asked for alcohol because it was a natural sterilant, something they could could at least try to use to stop the spread and maintain things.

Jongin followed close by Taeyong’s side as they walked through the town, Mark still silent and only a foot or two away, eyes taking in every building like he was searching for any threat that could pop out at them. “Hey,” he spoke up quietly, but the other didn’t verbally answer and simply met his gaze. “You okay?”

“Fine,” was all Mark answered. Jongin called bullshit and gripped the strap of the bag a little tighter, but he wasn’t going to get into an altercation with the younger male right here, and certainly not now. They had much more pressing matters to attend to.

The building they were led to seemed to be a small hall of sorts closer to the centre of the town, and even Jongin could feel that heaviness that seemed to hang in the air and have the hairs on his arms standing on end — he couldn’t be sure, he wasn’t magically inclined, but one glance at Taeyong made him think that perhaps he was right. This didn’t feel _natural_. “It’s bad,” Jaehyun warned quietly as his hand settled on the door, but he saw Taeyong offer a reassuring smile before the the door was pressed inwards and they tentatively stepped inside.

Jongin had seen sickness before, but he’d never seen anything like this. The people laying on makeshift cots seemed more like corpses than human beings, their skin pale and gaunt and stretched thin, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and chests rising unevenly as they breathed. His breakfast threatened to rise up in his throat as he took it all in, from the elderly to the young children; it was sparing no one. “Shit,” he heard Mark curse under his breath from his right and Jongin got the urge to make him wait outside, to protect him from this even if they’d seen worse in other ways.

Taeyong, though, he looked composed — he didn’t curse and he didn’t pale, he just surveyed the damage around them before swallowing thickly and asking Jongin to fetch one of the bottles from the bag, telling them not to touch anything as he navigated between the cots without any fear. He didn’t look scared, nor nervous, but Jongin could see that gentle smile on his lips, something soft and reassuring. Always putting other’s first. “Tell me how it happened?” The other hummed as he crouched down beside one man who’s chest was barely rising, looking over him without touching like he was searching for something.

“We’re not entirely sure. We woke up in the morning and everything was fine, and then by noon we had five who were showing symptoms; by the time night fell a third of the village was down with it, and it keeps accelerating,” Jaehyun murmured as he stopped on the other side of the cot, reaching down to push sweaty hair back off the man’s forehead before Taeyong could stop him. “There’s no point me staying away — I’ve already gotten it, by this point, it’s just a matter of time. We don’t know how it spreads, the first few cases were spread out and had no connection, so the best we can think of is airborne.”

Taeyong pursed his lips, glancing over to where he and Mark were standing and watching. “Maybe,” he seemed to admit, “but I don’t think it is. It seems . . . I’ve never seen anything like it. You two stay over there, keep your hands clean, but I’ll need my bag.”

—

Taeyong had known from the moment he’d gotten here that this wasn’t a normal illness, but seeing these bodies lined up in cots and struggling to breath only solidified that — this was magic, something dark and heavy that hung in the air and felt like it was trying to creep into him. Mark had nearly thrown a fit when he’d reached out to touch one of the patients and whilst he understood that worry there was no point, because Jaehyun was likely close to the truth but not accurate. No, this wasn’t airborne, he could tell that much, if just for the fact that he could feel the sickness that’d taken route in these people, including their guide. It didn’t trail out of them and taint the air, it was curled deep within them like a parasite, feeding off their life force.

Even so, he wasn’t taking risks with Jongin and Mark, making them wash their hands with alcohol and not letting them touch anything, keeping them at a distance.

“Am I going to die?” A quiet voice spoke up from his side, barely even audible, and when Taeyong looked over his features softened considerably, a little smile curling on his lips as he crouched down. She was young, perhaps no older than eight, her face weathered and body shaking with the effort of each breath as he reached out to hold her hand.

“No, sweetie, you’re not going to die,” Taeyong murmured. That ache in his chest only grew when her head moved in the smallest of nods, fingers twitching like she was trying to reach out to him with dull eyes half focused on the jewel hanging around his throat. The dark haired male shifted closer to sit by the edge of the cot and took her hand so he could set it over the cool stone; even so sick like this there was a barely visible awe in her gaze, her little lips moving into some semblance of a smile.

“Are you a prince?” Taeyong shook his head, leaning over to press a tender kiss to his forehead before he reached into his bag to pull out some of the little glass vials. Once he sifted through to find the one he was looking for he unscrewed the cork cap and moved his hand to support her head so she could drink a few drops. She almost coughed it back up, her throat almost too weak to even swallow, but eventually she got it down. It would help with the pain at least until he could make sense of all this.

“No, but I know the king.”

“What’s he like?” His smile grew a little fonder at that. 

“He’s wonderful. Very noble and kind, the best king you could ever ask for — he’s the one who sent me to help you.”

“Is he handsome like they say?”

“Very,” Taeyong whispered conspiratorially and managed to pull forth the faintest of giggles; he could see that the medicine was already beginning to work, causing her eyes to start drifting closed. All he could do was ease the pain and help her sleep for a little while to minimise her suffering, though he wished he was capable of doing more, of fixing it all instantly. “Get some rest, princess,” the dark haired male murmured, squeezing her little hand once more before forcing himself to pull back and move onto the next. 

It’d never been easy work, but this was harder than anything Taeyong had ever had to do before — to look into these people’s eyes, so full of hope and desperation, and tell them that he was sure that he could save them even though he still wasn’t even entirely sure what _this_ was. It was late noon by the time he finally conceded to take a break and headed out to sit on the steps, head hung low as he picked at some bread from his pack. Footsteps reached his ears and only a few moments later someone sat down beside him. He hadn’t really expected it to be Mark, expression softer than before and showing barely veiled concern. “How are you holding up, Yong?” It was just a few words, but after everything it was enough to have Taeyong almost falling apart, eyes misting up just a little before he averted his gaze and attempted to steel himself.

“I’ll be okay,” he promised, accepting the bottle of water that Mark handed over, one they’d just filled up after their own stash had depleted. “I just . . . I feel so helpless. I’ve sewed peoples insides back together, Mark, but I’ve never dealt with something like this.” Taeyong unscrewed the cap and took a long sip, throat bobbing as he swallowed down sweet water.

“It’s magic, isn’t it?” He was quiet for a few moments as he handed the bottle back over to his friend, mouth tingling just a little bit as he rubbed his lips a few times before offering a small nod. Taeyong felt a little warm despite the chill in the air. 

“I don’t want them to know, but yes, it is. This isn’t my forte, this is Ten’s—“

“You’re his star pupil, Taeyong. He wouldn’t have sent you here if he didn’t believe in you. We all do.” It was a pep talk he hadn’t expected from Mark given his fiery attitude earlier, but Taeyong couldn’t even begin to explain just how grateful he truly was for it. “Now, tell me what you see.”

“The symptoms aren’t what makes it different,” Taeyong started after a few seconds, “they mimic some other sicknesses, but the rate of spread and the intensity is what’s throwing me off. It’s like whoever did this not only did it purposefully, but to . . . no, I don’t think it was to prove a point. I think they’ve done it for a reason, but I don’t know what it is, just that they wanted us to find out. The fever, the pain, the effect it’s having — it’s draining them. It’s parasitic in nature. Not a curse, because I can feel that there’s a source, but I just don’t know what it is, because if it was touch it’d be all over you already and if it was in the air we’d all have it, but they’re still getting it somehow and it has to be in a way that would ensure everyone was infected. I thought about food but even if it was the crops it wouldn’t work, because no two families eat the same thing.” Taeyong paused, pulse jumping a little as he realised he felt . . . not good. There was a warmth that was too cloying and too thick and his spine was tingling, and as he looked around and watched Mark about to bring the bottle to his lips it all clicked into place.

In a flash his hadn’t darted out and knocked the water from his hands, the bottle rolling down the stairs and leaking everywhere, sinking into stone and dirt. “Taeyong, what the—“

“It’s the water,” he breathed, head spinning a little as he pushed himself up off the ground. “Tell Jongin, _now_.”

“You just—“

“ _Now,_ Mark,” Taeyong ordered, ignoring the way Mark seemed to want to argue as he grabbed his pack and headed off down the path they’d come, almost running really towards the well he remembered seeing on their way in. Gods, he felt so stupid for not making the connection sooner — of course it was the water, what better way was there to ensure that the whole town would become infected? 

“Taeyong! What’s going on?” He heard Jongin call from behind him, no doubt trying to catch up, but Taeyong didn’t pause to give him time. Whatever this was, his body didn’t like it — it took hours for symptoms to appear in the townsfolk yet he was already feeling dizzy as he made it to the well, stomach heaving like his body wanted to reject whatever was taking root inside him. 

Despite the fact it was still light outside he couldn’t see much when he peered over the stone edge, only able to make out the inky water below, maybe ten feet down. Whatever was in there hadn’t come up whenever they’d fished out their water, which meant sending the bucket down again wasn’t going to do anything to fix the problem, but he had no idea how he was going to get it out. Taeyong paused, taking in the larger size of the well. He could probably fit, and swimming couldn’t be that hard, right? Within a second he was pulling off his coat and shoes, ignoring the shouting behind him to pull off the chain around his throat too, setting it on top of the pile before he took a deep breath and stared down at the calm water below him.

Taeyong jumped.

—

Mark felt like his heart dropped the moment he saw Taeyong jump over the edge of the well and disappear from view. Shit, he didn’t know what to do. When Jongin reached the well a few seconds before him he half expected the elder to jump right in after him, but the well was narrow and jagged and if he did he’d just end up landing on Taeyong, which from this height wouldn’t be a good thing by any means. Even so, they couldn’t just stand by helplessly, and it’d been Mark who’d rushed to drop the bucket down, crouched at the edge and watching as the water lapped at the sides of the well.

Seconds felt like hours, and by the time Jaehyun reached them the water had almost fallen still; he was about to figure to hell with it and try to get down there because it’d been too long, but then Taeyong finally resurfaced. His hair was matted down and he was choking for air, flailing around like he didn’t know what to do before he accidentally knocked the bucket with his hand. “Grab on!” He called down. It took a few seconds for the other male to figure it out, but once he did he practically curled himself around it, shaking and clutching something to his chest. It took all three of them to raise the bucket with the added weight of Taeyong and the water trying to drag him back down. Finally, they managed to hoist him up over the edge.

Mark was by his side instantly and drawing him against his chest, helping him cough up the water that’d gotten into his lungs and trying to check him over for injuries, but Taeyong kept pushing, trying to get out words before he finally managed to shove a soaked black pouch into his hands, fingers ice cold. “Burn it,” he croaked, and when Mark didn’t move he repeated it louder, choking on his words. Jaehyun was the one who seemed to catch on and take the bag before running off towards gods knows where, likely with the intent of following the instructions, but Mark and Jongin remained behind.

It’d been one of the most terrifying things that Mark had ever experienced. Taeyong had passed out in his arms, trembling like he was possessed and ice cold. There’d been a moment where he’d genuinely thought they were going to lose him. “He’ll be okay,” Jongin had insisted even though it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself too, directing Mark to gather everything and follow him back to the hall so that they could dry the unconscious male off and get him wrapped in as many spare blankets as they could find once they’d set him down in the rear room. The elder had disappeared after that but Mark had stayed by his side, holding that bundle of blankets and Taeyong as close as he could.

Slowly the tremors faded and warmth returned to his skin, his breathing evening out to somethingmore peaceful, and for a long time he’d just slept in Mark’s arms, head pillowed on his chest and breath washing over his throat. His own fingers had brushed affectionately through his hair time and time again as his terror faded. Taeyong would be okay — he had to be.

It was dark by the time Jongin came back through the door, face a little haggard, but it’d been so obvious the way his features became more relaxed when he caught sight of them. His silver hair was a mess as he set their stuff down and walked over to the bed, not even hesitating to crawl up onto it and join Mark where he was seated against the headboard; maybe earlier in the day he would’ve ignore the gesture but when one arm was stretched out as a clear offering Mark just sidled closer against Jongin’s side, tucking himself and Taeyong in close. “You did so well, Mark,” the other murmured, making him close his eyes.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Mark admitted softly. “I was so scared when I saw him jump in, I just— I panicked.”

“Me too. I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t even think that maybe it could be in the water. He’s so smart,” Jongin breathed out, brushing some of Taeyong’s hair back out of his face as his other rubbed over Mark’s arm. “Jaehyun burnt the pouch. They’re not out of the woods yet but the illness is starting to subside, it’s just a matter of them taking the time to recover.” He paused for a moment. “He’s going to be okay, Mark, just like everyone else.” Mark just stayed silent for a little while, tired eyes focused on the other’s sleeping face.

“I was jealous.” His words were barely a mumble but they felt like he’d yelled in the silence of the room. “After the kiss I was happy to wait for him but he was getting so close to everyone, to _you_ , and then I saw him kissing Taemin and I— it’s so _stupid,_ I’m like some kid who doesn’t want to share his favourite toy, but I was worried that he—“

“Mark,” Jongin cut him off with a firm tone, hand sliding to his cheek so that he could force Mark to meet his gaze. There was no anger there but Mark still wanted to shy away. “You’re allowed to feel, sweetheart. What we have isn’t easy, we all knew it never would be, but that’s okay — we just need to work through it together. I think a few of us are a bit guilty of not communicating, yeah? I’m sorry for sneaking off all the time and not telling you, but you’re not the only one who gets nervous.”

“But you’re—“

“A king? Like that matters,” Jongin chuckled. “I was worried Taeyong wouldn’t like me for that very reason, so yeah, I did something stupid and lied about spending time with him. It was the only way I could get him to relax around me.”

“Away from the castle,” Mark murmured, eyes moving over Jongin’s face for a moment before he sighed and relaxed into the touch on his cheeks, eyelashes fluttering closed. “I’m such an idiot.”

“We’re both idiots,” Jongin reasoned with a chuckle, full lips pressing to his for a few seconds before he pulled back a bit and settled further down into the bed. “Now come on, we need to get some sleep so we can leave early.” Mark almost wanted to protest (keyword: almost) but eventually he gave in, wiggling his way down under the blankets as well and tucking Taeyong between them so they could all fit on the little bed that was certainly not made for three fully grown men. He’d almost drifted off when he heard Jongin speak again. “When did he kiss Taemin?”

“At the ball,” Mark mumbled into the pillow. He hadn’t realised Jongin hadn’t known, but then again he supposed there’d never been time for anyone to discuss it. “On the balcony. I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

—

Taeyong was aware of two things when he woke up: one, he was toasty warm, and two, he was still really damn tired. It’d taken a little bit of time to remember what’d happened prior to him ending up sandwiched in a small bed between Mark and Jongin, but eventually it had all started to come back to him, especially when the other’s stirred and instantly started making sure he was okay, telling him how much he’d scared them and how he wasn’t allowed to do that ever again. Then had come the praise, though. Jongin telling him how smart he was for figuring it out, Mark telling him how brave he was for putting himself at risk to save them. “Thought you said it was stupid?” He’d chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Mark had just hugged him closer.

“I think everyone who’s brave is at least a little bit stupid.”

It’d taken a little bit of time for him to get himself going which was the only reason why he didn’t protest to Jongin and Mark packing everything. Definitely the only reason, even though he couldn’t quite deny that he liked that feeling of . . . well, knowing they cared. Maybe, just for a little bit, he’d let them take care of him. And if he didn’t push Jongin’s hand away when he steadied him just so that it’d stay on his back as they walked out, then you know what? So be it.

Truthfully part of Taeyong wished that they could’ve stayed here just a little longer, if just because he would’ve liked to oversee everyone’s recovery himself, but he knew that they couldn’t — they had to get back to the castle and figure out what the hell had really happened. After all, he was fairly certain he’d be able to trace the signature on that pouch back to whoever had placed it here. He knew they would be in good hands, though, and that’s why he didn’t feel too bad about going; he’d told Jaehyun exactly what they needed to do and had left behind plenty of medicine, smiling when the other had pulled him into a tight hug and thanked him forever thing he’d done. Yeah, they’d be fine.

The other part of him was the part that couldn’t wait to be _home_.

“You know,” Jongin spoke up as they all rode along the main road home, trees swayingly gently in the frigid breeze that whipped around them. “I completely forgot yesterday was the solstice.”

“Me too,” Taeyong admitted, pulling his cloak tighter around himself and tucking that pendant back into his clothes despite the temporary chill the gem gave off. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve really had time to relax lately, and then the ball . . . it just slipped my mind, even if that’s what it was all for. Makes sense why it’s so cold.” That had Mark chuckling from where he was riding on his other side. He’d been in a much better mood today and Taeyong was extremely grateful for it— with everything that’d happened it was easy to forget what’d happened the other night and what he’d seen, or at least he wasn’t thinking back to it each time he looked at his friend.

He’d been feeling a little off all morning but he was pretty sure it was just the dregs of that foreign magic leaving his body. Taeyong had brushed it off rather quickly, but as they rode alone he couldn’t deny that there was just . . . just a feeling in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite ignore, something that had him looking around every few seconds. It was cold but there was no snowfall yet, just an icy wind that seemed to chill him through his clothes, a silence hanging in the air that his companions seemed to be impervious to; Taeyong had never realised how much he noticed the life of the forest around them until now, when it felt so empty. So cold.

Taeyong slowed his horse down a little and let his eyes sweep around their surroundings, able to see a few meters into the forest before his vision was obscured by all the tree trunks, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he could see at least.

“Something’s wrong,” he still found himself murmuring out as he stopped his horse. Mark and Jongin followed suit, hands falling to rest on their weapons as they too glanced around. A minute passed, then two, but nothing happened. Maybe he was wrong. Taeyong’s brows were still furrowed even as Jongin twirled that spear around his fingers, offering a small smile.

“Let’s just keep moving, yeah? It’s probably—“

There was a sickening sort of thud and Jongin jolted, and then he watched as the other seemed to have to catch himself on his horse a little, smile fading to something pained. “Jongin?” His horse shifted just a little and it was enough for him to see something sticking out of the other’s back. An arrow. “Mark, he’s—“ There was another whistling in the area followed by a clang as Mark deflected an arrow away from his own face with the gauntlet on his wrist, eyes wide before the reality of the situation set in. They were under attack.

“Jongin!” He shouted, mere seconds before band of figures erupted from all sides.

It all happened so quickly that Taeyong hadn’t even had time to process what was going on or think about what was taking place. Gods, they’d been so stupid — why else would they target a town so out of the way and isolated, so unimportant? To draw someone out. He could see the anguish in Jongin’s face as he slid off his horse and almost fell, brandishing that spear with shaky hands even as the band approached with their own weapons, faces masked with depictions of horrific creatures that only added to the fear vibrating in the air. Mark had dismounted too and was armed with a sword rather than the bow at his back, trying to stand in front of both of them even as they were surrounded, the horse’s startling and causing even more ruckus.

“Yongie,” Jongin spoke up as he managed to get to him, struggling. Taeyong could tell just from the position of the arrow it was causing him immense pain, that it could cause some serious damage.

“I need to—“

“You need to run,” he rasped. “As your king, I’m ordering you to _run_.”

The bandits descended upon them within seconds, and just like that chaos erupted around him. Jongin was whisked away and struggling to fight with an arrow lodged in his back and Mark was trying to defend them both as best he could even despite the fact they were heavily outnumbered, and all Taeyong had was a dagger. A dagger he’d been given by Baekhyun before they’d left on this trip, one he still barely knew how to wield, certainly not good enough _fight_ , but he didn’t have a choice.

Despite Jongin’s words he didn’t try to run, not that there were any chances for him to anyway because it felt like everyone was coming his way. All he could do was duck and weave, trying to avoid any weapons that were thrown in his direction, but it was all a mess and he could see Jongin struggling to stand, could see Mark clutching his side but still fighting and trying to work his way back to them while yelling their names. Taeyong buried the dagger into the neck of a man who almost caught Jongin blindsided, hands shaking as he managed to pull it back out, but then he heard the king cry out again and it felt like his blood ran cold. 

Taeyong watched Jongin fall, watched the blood pooling around him as Mark shouted, and Taeyong . . . time sort of stopped. He shoved his way through the fight and landed by Jongin’s side, hands desperately trying to stem the bleeding over his chest even as he heard footsteps approaching and saw a sword raised overhead, and then he screamed.

It was like a storm erupted around them as his eyes screwed shut, body bowed over Jongin who’s eyes were starting to glaze over. 

The sword never fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes


	15. Interlude: Snow Drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> interlude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't an update per se (but I did update earlier today so check out part 14) but I did really want to post this just because I think it's really fitting for the story, and because I feel like it's a nice break between last chapter and the next, which will be up tomorrow like usual. I did considering finishing the story at the last part and then continuing the series with the rest because this story has blown out of control and gotten so long already, but I blame all of you for encouraging me c; so the main story will still be here of course and updated until I'm done, but I did also post the first small companion fic today, so feel free to check that out too! Those will focus more on individual pairings/trios etc just to give people more of their faves.

‘ _Snow Drops_ ’

Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know

what despair is; then 

winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,

earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect 

to waken again, to feel

in damp earth my body

able to respond again, remembering 

after so long how to open again

in the cold light

of earliest spring—

afraid, yes, but among you again

crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.

— from _The Wild Iris_ , by Louise Glück

Ecco, 1993

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /Taemin didn’t enjoy being cruel, it wasn’t something he took pleasure in, but when it came to those he cared for there was nothing he wouldn’t do; maybe that wasn’t normal, maybe that was something that came from his demonic heritage, but it wasn’t something he felt was a bad quality. Well, not for him or the people he held a fondness for, but it was certainly a bad thing for anyone that stood in his way. In their way. A benefit of not being very human meant he didn’t need to worry about things as trivial as sleep or food as much as his companions, and it was certainly something handy that came in handy in times like this.
> 
> His prisoner may have been a warlock, but he was nothing compared to Taemin./
> 
> yes, yes, the first Taemin pov in the next chapter, I hope you enjoy! They're all very complex characters so I hope I've been doing them justice


	16. Part 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong wakes up to the aftermath of the attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to start to speed up soon, I honestly never expected this to be so slow burn lmaoooo. I hope it's still been enjoyable for everyone because I've sort of fallen in love so much with these characters and the plot I have going in my head

When Taeyong woke up, he didn’t have to fight to escape the nothingness that’d been encapsulating his consciousness, his eyes simply fluttered open and focused on the ceiling above him. It still took him a few moments to really register that he was awake — it was like his synapses needed time to clear and fire back up, senses slowly coming back online. First he recognised the warmth of blankets wrapped around him, bundled close and swaddling him where he seemed to lay on the bed, soft material tickling his skin that felt almost too sensitive. Then there was the smell of flowers that filled the air around him, a dull light peaking through windows to his right, and the . . . he didn’t know how to explain it, or how he knew what to make of it, but it was like his sense were dialled up to eleven.

He’d been able to feel energy to an extent with Ten’s tutelage, but this was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. As Taeyong pushed himself up to sit even a breeze caressing his skin had him shivering, the energy in the air so potent and varied that it was rather overwhelming. Unlike before when he’d had to reach out and try to sense it, it came to him freely, washed over him like waves without any sort of respite.

From what he could gather he was in his own room, like he’d just woken up from a good night’s sleep, but there were flowers on his bedside table and there was a chair pulled close like it’d been used often. Taeyong’s brain felt a little foggy, but at the same time it’d never felt so clear. Idly he heard the door open but was far too focused on looking over his hands to glance up, only doing so when he heard a choked noise and things crash to the floor. It was Ten who was standing in the doorway, looking a little haggard but staring at him with a mess of emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher before the other male was rushing over, climbing half onto the bed and pulling him into a tight embrace, burying a sob in his shoulder.

“I was so scared,” Ten managed as his body shook. Taeyong’s brows furrowed a little but he still hugged him back despite his confusion. “I thought we were going to lose you, I thought— I should’ve been with you, I’m so sorry, I should’ve known something was wrong.” A few seconds passed before he started to remember where he’d been before waking up, not the empty expanse of his mind but his waking hours. The sickness in the town, their trip back, and . . .

“Jongin,” Taeyong managed, struggling against the other’s grip with a panicked expression, pulse hammering in his chest and eyes wide with fear. “Mark— oh gods, I—“

“Yong, hey, _breathe_ ,” the other tried to reassure, pulling back with wet eyes to smooth hands over his cheeks, the energy sparking through his palms enough to catch Taeyong off guard enough to pause. “They’re both fine, sweetheart.” He knew that Ten would never lie to him but his body was still panicking because he could remember it so clearly. Pained cries and the fear he’d felt, that morbid sense of dread as he’d seen Jongin’s blood stain the grown around him, as his eyes had started to lose focus even as Taeyong had tried to stem the flow. “I promise you, they’re both safe and okay — let’s get you some food first, then we can talk about what happened, okay?”

Taeyong didn’t want to wait, he wanted to know now, but Ten looked so exhausted. So after a moment he gave a barely discernible nod, swallowing thickly.

It wasn’t until he’d managed to finish a whole bowl of rather plain porridge that Ten had finally spoken up, sitting beside him on the bed and carding his fingers through his hair so gently, eyes watching like he was scared to look away for even a second. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I . . . we were on our way back from the village and I started feeling _off_ , I don’t know how to describe it, like I knew something was wrong. I didn’t think anything of it at first but it got so strong and I couldn’t ignore it, and then . . . I remember the arrow.” Taeyong’s throat tightened and Ten slipped their fingers together to give a gentle squeeze. “I was so scared,” he admitted, barely above a whisper. “It all happened so quickly. Jongin told me to run but I couldn’t just leave them there, so I tried to fight, but I couldn’t do anything and I could see Mark was hurt to, and then Jongin—“

Taeyong cut himself off and squeezed his eyes shut, a pain radiating through his chest that was so immense that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything like it before. Ten didn’t rush him, though, just let him take his time as he tried to make sense of all this. “I saw him fall, and when I reached him there was so much blood everywhere. Even if I’d been able to get him away from the battle I knew I wouldn’t be able to save him. It hurt so much, Ten,” he managed as his bottom lip trembled. “He died in my arms, Ten— I could _feel_ it. I remember feeling cold, I remember screaming for anyone to help, but nothing after that.”

It took a few moments for Ten to answer him. “They’re both alive and well, Taeyong, even if they’ve got a few more scars. You can see for yourself soon. I don’t know what happened, we’re still trying to figure it out, but we — gods, we felt this surge of power, and I didn’t know what it was but Taemin knew we had to find you,” he admitted, his fingers bare of the rings that usually adored them and tangled between his own as he spoke. “It didn’t take us long. There was still so much residual energy in the air, it was like a crumb trail that lead back to you. I was so scared because there was blood everywhere and you were all laying on the ground, Mark a few feet away and you covering Jongin — we were so sure you were all dead. But you all had pulses.”

“I don’t understand,” Taeyong murmured.

“Neither do we. Mark woke up first, maybe a few hours after we got you all back here, but even he couldn’t make sense of it; he said Jongin fell and he heard _you_ scream, and then it was like the world whited out. Jongin remembered even less, but he’s been really quiet. He wouldn’t leave his room at first.”

“But what happened to all the men who attacked us?” Ten stared at him for a second, lips pressed together like he didn’t want to answer, and somehow Taeyong knew the answer before he even spoke it.

“They’re all dead. Every last one of them. Their bodies were strewn out all over the road, like they’d just dropped dead where they were standing, some scattered out further like they’d been knocked away — hell, the trees were bent back, Taeyong, like there’d been an explosion. We don’t know what you did, but it . . . it did something. You’re different.”

“What do you mean?” He asked in a small voice, almost like he didn’t really dare to ask. Taeyong didn’t bother denying it because he could feel it, like some switch deep within him had been switched to ‘on’ after being turned off his entire life.

“Your hair is white,” was the first thing Ten replied, reaching up to brush some of it back, “and you feel different. Still you, but I can feel your magic now, Yongie, and it’s so _strong_.” Taeyong swallowed thickly at that and looked away. His own magic had always been so weak, weak enough that he’d never even been able to use it, so they’d assumed there wasn’t much in him; he couldn’t understand how that could be so different now, how apparently it was strong enough to cause such damage, to . . . to kill.

“What’s happening to me, Ten?” If there was one thing he could always rely on Ten for, it was to tell him the truth no matter what.

“I don’t know,” the other admitted, “but we’ll figure it out together, I promise. Will you rest a little bit more while I tell everyone you’re awake?”

So, Taeyong had rested — sort of. He had at least leant back into his pillows but he hadn’t been able to fall asleep, and really, that was probably something to do with the fact that somehow he’d been asleep for days, four to be exact. Apparently they’d been worried that he’d never wake up. It was a lot to process if he was being honest, but Taeyong found that he didn’t really want to even try now, he just . . . he wanted to see everyone, to prove to himself that everyone was okay. Maybe then he could convince himself that it’d all just been a bad dream, even though he remembered it so clearly, even though he could remember feeling the life leave Jongin’s body as he’d struggled to keep him alive.

He supposed he hadn’t expected everyone to come in at once, or at least nearly everyone, because Taeyong couldn’t help the way his stomach sunk a little when Taemin wasn’t among the group that filtered into the room and instantly came to his side. They all looked a little worse for wear and it took him a moment to realise that it was because of _him_. They’d been worried. The bed was certainly only big enough for maybe two, but they’d all piled onto it regardless, almost like vying for the best position so they could pull him close; it was a little overwhelming. So many hands curling around his body and so many smells, so much energy, but rather than panicking and fighting it Taeyong let out a choked sob and let it wrap around him, eyes watering. No one seemed surprised by the fact he’d instantly reached for Jongin, burying his face into his chest and holding on for dear life like he still couldn’t believe he was there. Jongin had held him tightly in turn even as everyone else settled in.

Mark took the space to his left, sort of just throwing his arms around all of them as Ten worked his way under one of Jongin’s arms, Lucas blanketing himself over his back and Baekhyun just dragging them all in. “Shit, you’re not allowed to scare us like that,” his eldest hyung murmured into his hair, and if Taeyong felt the wetness dripping down to his scalp he didn’t comment. Everyone seemed to be shedding a few tears.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Mark spoke up and he felt Lucas nod in agreement at his back. “We were so worried, Taeyong, we thought—“

“I’m okay,” Taeyong promised, shifting his arms a little so that he could try to just hold onto everyone, letting them encompass him. They were all here, they were all alive, even Jongin who sported dark circles but seemed okay despite how weak he looked.

There was a lot of cuddling, as in it sort of ended up as one massive puppy pile with Taeyong in the centre, eyes half closed as he just relished in all the attention — maybe he should’ve been embarrassed about it, about how he craved it, but after everything he’d just learnt it was the least of his concerns. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel as though something was missing, just big enough to make him feel restless, eyes glancing to the door every few minutes like he was expecting it to open and for someone to walk in. _Taemin_. He didn’t dare say anything or even ask, but it seemed he didn’t need to. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to be here, Yongie.” Baekhyun was the one who spoke up, head pillowed on his calf and eyes focused on him as his gaze was drawn to the door once again. “We’ve been busy trying to figure it out, and we’re—“

“Baek,” Jongin spoke up, almost like a warning. Baekhyun’s eyes narrowed a little.

“No, Jongin, he deserves to know.” Tension settled in the air, but no one spoke up to argue, even Jongin who’d tensed under him. Taeyong’s brows furrowed and he moved to sit up a little better despite the fact he wanted nothing more than to lay back down in the mass of warm bodies that felt like home. “We’re on the brink of war.”

“Why?” Taeyong asked quietly.

“Out of all our guests, there’s only one kingdom who had someone we think could be strong enough to have caused that plague,” Ten spoke up as an answer, untangling Lucas’s arm from over his shoulder and sitting up too, which sort of seemed to encourage everyone else too as well since the conversation had grown much more serious. “Your regular mage wouldn’t have the skills or knowledge for something like that, and they had to have been orchestrating it to try and take out Jongin — one of the kings we invited has a warlock who warms his bed, and a witch. Taemin has been trying to get information out of the warlock for days and the king is threatening all out war if he’s not returned safely in the next few hours.”

“I can tell you if it was them,” Taeyong reasoned, and it wasn’t just an excuse to see Taemin. He was the only one who’d be able to truly know who the culprit was, and now that he could feel everything so intently he knew it wouldn’t take any effort. He couldn’t forget how that magic had felt as it’d tried to worm it’s way into his body, so _dark_ and oppressive in nature. Evil.

“You should be resting,” Jongin started to argue, but Taeyong shook his head.

“We can’t risk war just for me to lay in bed even longer,” he answered, forcing himself to pull away so that he could slide out of bed. He felt light on his feet, like he weighed nothing. “Please, I just . . . I need to _do_ something, okay? It’s not like I’m going to pass out or anything, I feel fine.”

Okay, so maybe he didn’t feel as perfect as he was making out, but Taeyong would take it easy and he’d be fine. They didn’t have time to wait, especially if they’d be subjected to a full blown war if they didn’t sort this out within the next few hours. He couldn’t let that happen.

—

Taemin didn’t _enjoy_ being cruel, it wasn’t something he took pleasure in, but when it came to those he cared for there was nothing he wouldn’t do; maybe that wasn’t normal, maybe that was something that came from his demonic heritage, but it wasn’t something he felt was a bad quality. Well, not for him or the people he held a fondness for, but it was certainly a bad thing for anyone that stood in his way. In _their_ way. A benefit of not being very human meant he didn’t need to worry about things as trivial as sleep or food as much as his companions, and it was certainly something handy that came in handy in times like this.

His prisoner may have been a warlock, but he was nothing compared to Taemin.

“I’m going to get it out of you one way or another,” he hummed as he picked up another knife, the hilt small enough to fit into his palm but the blade a wicked curve that almost resembled a claw, glinting dangerous in the light as he strolled back over to where he had the other strung up. Cuffs around his wrists and feet barely grazing the ground, torso coated in minor injuries and blood pooled on the ground. Even after three days of this with minimal reprieve the man was still conscious and refusing to break, that shit-eating grin still curling on his lips despite how weak he was growing.

“It wasn’t us,” he managed to rasp, coughing a little which cause the chains to rattle. Taemin knew from experience how painful it was even just to be hung up like this, how your hands went numb and how the weight of your body caused the joints of your shoulders to feel as though they were in a constant state of almost dislocation. He knew how much the other must want to make it all stop, but he hadn’t. “And even if it was Min, I would never tell you.” Taemin laughed at that, the noise utterly cold as it bounced around the stone walls.

“Your _Min_ , huh? You really think he didn’t run the moment we grabbed you?” The man just smiled weakly, looking so self assured even with the way earlier tears had left clear tracks down his cheeks through the swear and blood. It was infuriating, but admirable.

“Min would never leave me.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” Taemin breathed, staring into the other’s eyes with a cold mask, looking every bit like the predator he’d been born as before he reached forward to let that blade drag over his skin, just grazing like he was an artist contemplating his next brush stroke before he paused. Footsteps. He didn’t really think much of it at first simply due to the fact that visitors hadn’t been uncommon the last few days — whoever wasn’t by Taeyong’s bedside had been busy trying to keep things in order, and he’d had some of them come down to see if he’d managed to wrangle forth any information.

This prisoner had to be their culprit, he’d been the only one strong enough, but he was so resilient and earnest. Taemin didn’t fail. He had to be right.

Then he felt it, though, that warmth that seemed to creep through the halls, seeking him out in a way that made every inch of his body light up. Ten had told him Taeyong was awake only hours prior, but he hadn’t thought he’d be out of bed yet; it’d taken everything in him not to rush up there. This was for him, though. “Don’t go anywhere,” he hummed as he flicked the blade back around and set it down. A cruel joke considering his prisoner wouldn’t be going anywhere. Taemin at least magicked away the blood on his hands and clothes before he stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him, lanterns lighting the space given he was in the catacombs below the castle.

He watched as he and Baekhyun rounded the corner, as the other gave him a pointed look before hugging Taeyong and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll wait outside,” he heard the other say before disappearing back around the corner.

Taeyong had always shone so brightly, but now that light was so unrivalled that Taemin couldn’t bring himself to look away for even a second, watching as the other walked over to where he was and instantly just melted into his arms. “It’s a relief to see you up and moving about,” he murmured as he nuzzled down into snowy white hair, inhaling deeply and letting his own eyes flutter closed for a moment. He could still remember just how terrified he’d been when they’d found him in the centre of all that destruction, body limp like some sort of doll and slumped over Jongin’s. Taemin had never meant for any of this to go so far, but seeing three of his humans strewn around in the midst of all that . . . he’d been scared.

“Sorry for worrying you,” was all Taeyong murmured against his chest, like he knew. Maybe he did. The younger pulled back and glanced around, then at the closed door beside them. “They told me that you think you have them.” Taemin nodded, surveying the other’s features for a moment before sighing.

“Think you can identify them?”

“Yeah.” Nothing had changed about Taeyong, not really, not majorly at least. Yeah, his hair was white, but he still looked the same, just . . . he didn’t know how to explain it. His skin seemed to glow and there was a light in his eyes, his voice almost like wind chimes whenever he spoke. It was intoxicating.

“It’s not pretty,” Taemin warned. He’d done a number on their prisoner, and part of him wondered what Taeyong would think, how he’d react — whether he’d see him as a monster. Perhaps. Taeyong just considered it for a few moments before nodding and motioning for him to open the door. So, he did, stepping inside and letting the other follow him inside. Taemin didn’t speak up at all, he just stayed silent and moved off to the side so that the younger had a clear view of the man and could do as he needed to, sleeping guard just in case.

He knew it was a gruesome sight. All the cuts and burns and blood, the bruises. To his merit, Taeyong didn’t throw up or run, but even from where Taemin stood with his arms crossed he could see the expression that flittered across his features, perhaps something akin to shock, horror.

“Taeyong, huh? Didn’t think you’d join in,” the man coughed out, swaying a little where he hung, and he could also see the moment that Taeyong seemed to recognise the figure.

“Jongdae?”

“Consort to King Minseok, his _advisor_ ,” Taemin spoke up, words laced with an obvious venom. He saw Taeyong pale and instantly stepped forward to steady him, noting the sweat beading at his temple, but the other didn’t relax into his touch.

“You need to get him down.” That caught Taemin off guard. It would almost be comical to see the way his brows furrowed and the way he titled his head like some big house cat, not quite understanding the demand.

“On the contrary, I think I’ll keep him hanging for a bit longer — maybe I should move him to the castle gates, hmm? String him up for his beloved king to see—“

“It’s not him,” Taeyong snapped, wrenching away from him before he could stop him and rushing over to get those chains unravelled, fingers fumbling with the locks. All Taemin could do was stand and stare for a moment before the realisation finished processing, and instantly he snapped his fingers, undoing the restraints and letting the man slump down to the ground where Taeyong was instantly catching him and laying him out, looking over his injuries. “I need my bag. _Now._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb. Or is it lambs?” Jongdae breathed out, wincing as Taeyong’s fingers moved over a particularly dark bruise on his abdomen. Even so, he never lost that curl to his lips, like a smile was his one way to keep it together. He’d given the elder something to ease the pain, but it couldn’t numb everything. Taeyong couldn’t help the way his cheeks warmed and he ducked his head down, trying to keep his voice even.
> 
> “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
> 
> “Please, you really expect me to believe something like him would be so passionate about just any little humans?”/
> 
> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	17. Part 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I love pain.  
> Also :)) it's been killing me not to reply to theories but hey, everything is starting to be explained now, just took me like 40,000 more words than I planned
> 
> also side note, the superm friendship test w/glamour came out this morning and those are always my fave videos I can't even, it was so wholesome hNNNN it had me feeling so inspired!

The last person Taeyong had expected to find strung up in Taemin’s makeshift torture dungeon was _Jongdae_ , the man he’d met at the ball, which was why it’d taken him a moment to react. Well, that and the injuries. He’d seen death and brutality and gore, but never torture to that extent. He hadn’t been angry at Taemin nor had he been scared, and he really wished he’d had the time to tell him that before he’d withdrawn and gone off to get assistance. He’d just been shocked. Worried.

Jongdae had stayed conscious as they’d gotten him into the apothecary and into a bed so that he could get to work, and he’d even stayed awake as Taeyong had patched up all his injuries, making small comments here and there like he hadn’t been brutally tortured for days by the very man that had come into the room a few times to bring supplies. For now Taemin wasn’t there, probably letting everyone know they’d been following a dead end this entire time.

“You don’t need to keep apologising,” the elder reassured as Taeyong mixed up a poultice to rub over his bruises, features still a little pinched. If he was being honest he was a bit tired. He supposed he hadn’t realised just how much whatever all that’d been had taken out of him because it seemed his body was still recovering, even now.

“Yes I do. I mean, look at you—“

“I understand,” Jongdae interrupted, voice firmer. “They thought I was the one that tried to kill you and your king. If the situations were reversed . . .”

“Can you really say you would’ve done the same?” Silence fell between them. A few emotions flickered across his patient’s face before they settled on something soft but determined.

“Yes, without a doubt. I wouldn’t like it, but I’d do it for him — for my king. I pledged Minseok my heart, body and soul.” It was Taeyong’s place to be silent after that, focusing on finishing up the poultice before shuffling closer on his chair so he could lean over the bed and carefully apply it to the patchwork of bruises covering Jongdae’s skin. He was lucky, really. No internal injuries and nothing that could kill him, all external and meant to hurt. Meant to make him suffer until he broke and gave them information he’d never had in the first place. Taeyong glanced back over his shoulder when the door opened again, Taemin peaking his head inside with one of those even expressions that had always be a little unsettling, but there was a softness directed his way. He didn’t even ask a question, just looked at him for the answer, and Taeyong offered a little smile to reassure him all was good before the door closed again.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb. Or is it lambs?” Jongdae breathed out, wincing as Taeyong’s fingers moved over a particularly dark bruise on his abdomen. Even so, he never lost that curl to his lips, like a smile was his one way to keep it together. He’d given the elder something to ease the pain, but it couldn’t numb everything. Taeyong couldn’t help the way his cheeks warmed and he ducked his head down, trying to keep his voice even.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, you really expect me to believe something like him would be so passionate about just any little humans?” He’d bristled at that, eyes narrowing, and the air in the room seemed to drop down to something almost frigid even if Taeyong didn’t notice himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean—“

“I’m not trying to insult anyone, but it’s obvious what he is. That’s all I meant,” Jongdae was quick to reason. It still took a few moments for Taeyong to calm down, lips pressed together as he worked. This was a rather . . . well, touchy subject. He still didn’t even know where he stood. “He’s more demon than human. Compassion doesn’t come easy to their kind, it’s not a natural emotion for them, yet he was still so determined to keep you safe. That’s why I’m not angry, Taeyong, because I know what it’s like to be willing to do anything for love.” The younger couldn’t bring himself to answer, just swallowed thickly and offered a small nod. It was too much for him to think about right now. _Love_. They had bigger things to worry about.

“You remind me of someone, you know?” That had Taeyong looking up with barely veiled curiosity. “I don’t think you met him at the ball, but he was there — Yixing.” There was fondness in Jongdae’s voice as he spoke, the same soft tone that he’d heard the other use when referring to his king. “He’s like you. I didn’t really realise at first, your energy was so weak, but I’m sure of it now; he’s going to be so excited to see I’ve found another witch.”

“A witch?” He parroted. Taeyong had only heard the term once before, this morning, and he had no idea what it meant, but surely it was a feminine term, right? Part of him wondered if it was an insult, but it didn’t sound like one coming from Jongdae.

“You don’t know,” the other answered after a moment, staring and then letting out a weak laugh that obviously pained him. “Gods, this is— how don’t you know? Haven’t you been taught about the different forms of magic?”

“I mean, Ten taught me about demons and warlocks and bloodlines—“

“But not _fae_ bloodlines?” Taeyong just stared, completely lost. “I wish Xing was here, he’s so much better at this than me,” the other murmured. “My magic comes from demon blood, right? Great grandmother shagged a demon, so I’m fairly strong for one of my kind, but in general my sort of magic is common because demons aren’t picky. But fae? Yixing is the only witch I’ve ever met, which is like, the equivalent of a warlock I suppose. He’s a healer like you, but he’s not as strong because his blood is diluted. It’s why we gravitated together — Min knew we were a package deal when he met us—“

The door opened again, but this time it wasn’t Taemin who stepped in but the man that Taeyong remembered from the ball, Jongdae’s king and . . . lover, apparently. He was dressed in regular clothes and had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept, that icy facade replaced by pure concern and relief as he moved to Jongdae’s side and started talking to him in hushed tones, cupping his face so tenderly and pressing kisses to his forehead. It was a heartfelt thing to witness, and Taeyong moved out of his seat so the other could take it.

His head was spinning from the influx of information and he wanted to ask Jongdae more, but he wasn’t going to be an asshole. After everything he’d endured he deserved time with his lover.

As Taeyong stepped out of the room another man came running down the hall, taller than him by just a little with rich, chestnut hair and deep dimples that showed even through his worry. Their eyes met for only a second as he slipped into the room to join the pair already in there; they didn’t exchange any words, but he felt like he knew that was the man Jongdae had been talking about — Yixing. His energy was . . . bright. Pure.

— 

It’d been a difficult week, that was for sure. The night of the ball had been so _perfect_ that Lucas couldn’t deny how much he’d hated it when he’d woken up to feel the tension that’d settled in the room over breakfast, and then there’d been that bombshell of the sickness and what’d come after. Gods, Lucas hoped they never had to endure anything like that ever again. 

Lucas had held it all together, though, even when he’d seen Taeyong’s seemingly lifeless body laid out in the bed or seen the scar on Jongin’s chest that certainly hadn’t been there before the trip, right over his heart and still pink like it was a fresher injury that was still healing, even when Mark had woken up and panicked and hadn’t been able to tell them definitely what’d happened. He’d held it together, not for himself, but for the others. For Ten who blamed himself for not being there, for Baekhyun who almost broke his hand on one of the stone walls, for Taemin who’d locked himself down beneath the castle with the man they were fairly sure was responsible while a foreign king threatened to have their heads. For Mark and Jongin once they woke up, especially Jongin who’d just been _off_.

They had enough to worry about, they didn’t need to worry about him as well.

So Lucas tried to be the positive one, holding Ten at night when he cried and wiping away the tears that fell from his eyes, reassuring him that Taeyong was going to be okay and that they were all going to figure this out together — that it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Promising in hushed whispers that he’d do anything to make this better, that he’d destroy anyone who tried to hurt them. In an ideal world maybe there wouldn’t be any need for violence and death, but that ideal world was a far cry from the one they lived in and Lucas would always protect those he loved, no matter the cost. He’d have the streets running with rivers of blood if that was it took.

Now that Taeyong was awake and they weren’t on the brink of a full blown war it was a little easier to breathe, but that didn’t change the fact that things were . . . a mess, was the only way to describe it. For one, they’d accidentally tortured the wrong man. Then there was the fact he couldn’t forget that destruction he’d seen in the forest around where they’d been laying, like the world had exploded around Taeyong; he’d seen magic before, powerful magic, but that’d been something else entirely. He’d asked Ten about it a few times over the past few days whenever he’d dared open his mouth but he’d never gotten a clear answer, just an admission that he didn’t know definitely yet.

Lucas wasn’t quite sure how, between he and Taemin, they couldn’t figure it out.

He’d had his own theories beforehand, but he was starting to think that maybe none of them had been right. Magical creatures weren’t exactly common but they did exist, and enough were humanoid enough that there’d been offspring in the past, some of them able to pass as human, so maybe that was it, or maybe it was a cursed bloodline, something he had experience with himself, but none of that seemed to apply to Taeyong.

No matter the end result it didn’t change anything. Taeyong was Taeyong. Even after what he’d seen there was no fear in the slightest when he came across the other out in the garden and moved over to sit by his side under the tree, stretching long limbs out in front of him before an arm wrapped around the smaller male’s shoulder. Taeyong just leant into his side, finger turning a small flower over in his hand he seemed to have picked up off the ground. It was a little smushed, honestly, petals starting to curl and brown in the way they always did once separated from the plant. Once plucked their beauty always began to fade. “Are you okay?” Lucas asked quietly, brushing back some of that now snowy hair and furrowing his brows.

“A little tired, but I feel good,” the other admitted, glancing up at him with those doe eyes he adored so much. They were always so honest, so kind. “I just . . . I feel like I don’t even know myself anymore.” Lucas’s chest seized a little at that. Gods, he knew that feeling, and it wasn’t something he wanted the other to have to feel, especially not after everything he’d been through lately.

“You’re still you, Yongie,” he tried to reassured, fingers settling over Taeyong’s cheek and grazing over his skin. In hindsight, perhaps that pure adoration that filled his gaze was a little too telling, because he could see the moment the other seemed to notice it, eyes widening just barely.

“Yukhei—“

“Just listen to me for a moment,” Lucas murmured before the other could continue. He didn’t remove his hand, nor did he pull back at all, just looked into the other’s eyes. He knew he joked around a lot and that no one really took him seriously especially when he had a bad habit of mincing up his words all the time and making a fool of himself, but he wasn’t a fool, and he was certainly capable of being serious when the situation called for it. “None of this changes who you are, Taeyong, you’re still who you’ve always been, you’re just special. Let us be there for you.” Lucas swallowed thickly before leaning in a little, eyes flitting down to Taeyong’s lips. “Let _me_ be there for you.”

Taeyong just stared at him, but he didn’t push him away, and even when their lips were about to touch all he did was set a hand on his chest to stop him, expression almost pained despite the obvious want there. “Yukhei, I can’t,” he breathed out.

“I don’t understand—“

“I saw you.” That made Lucas pause, pull back a little. “The night of the ball, I was going back to my room, and I— Baekhyun and Mark, I know you have something and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see but the door was open and I _can’t_ , I can’t come between that.” The taller male was so stunned by the revelation, maybe a little embarrassed at first given the way a flush rose up to his cheeks, that he didn’t even have time to react as Taeyong pulled away from him. “I won’t ruin it.” The other stood and let that flower drift down from his hand before walking away. Lucas just sat there amongst fallen flowers and petals, quietly processing what he’d just heard, and then he looked down and noticed the flower — the flowers, plural, because all of them, even the one Taeyong had been holding, they were all in full bloom around him despite being discarded down onto the ground, looking as though they’d never been wilted husks in the first place. Oh.

—

Taeyong had been hoping that he wouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to his room, more so praying, but he was starting there was little value in placing your trust in gods who’d abandoned the world a long time ago. He supposed he could’ve taken another hallway but his had been the fastest one back to his room. Would’ve been if Taemin hadn’t opened his door like he _knew_ Taeyong had been about to pass by, and hell, maybe he had. The elder jut stared at him with his hip cocked against the doorframe for a moment before he stepped to the side, a clear invitation, and he couldn’t bring himself to say no — didn’t want to.

He was pretty proud of the fact he managed to hide his surprised when he walked in and realised there was already a guest present. Ten was sitting back amongst those silk sheets, hair a little dishevelled but otherwise looking rather put together

“Do you want to talk about it?” Taemin asked from behind him, but Taeyong just shook his head, chest aching in a way he’d grown accustomed to over the last few months as he was lead to sit down on the edge of the bed, a warm body settling beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Ten shuffled forward to sit behind him and joined the arm’s around his body, chin perched on his shoulder as they just sat there in silence for a little while. Taeyong wanted nothing more than to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out. _Why am I like this? Why do I keep wanting to take more than I should? Why do I feel like the universe likes dangling what I desire right in front of me only to snatch it away the moment I let myself hope?_ It all felt like one big, cruel trick.

“Are you upset with me?” The elder asked, and when Taeyong looked up he realised Taemin seemed to be genuinely curious, perhaps worried. That was something Taeyong didn’t have to think about to answer.

“No.” He shook his head for good measure. “I’m sorry if I made you think that, I was just worried about Jongdae — it was a lot to take in.” It almost seemed like Taemin didn’t quite believe him, even though it was hard to comprehend how the other could ever be so unsure of himself when he always seemed so utterly confident in everything he did. “I promise, Taemin, I . . .” he wanted to say he understood why he’d done it. Jongdae’s explanation had raised more questions than it’d answered. And so the lion fell in love with the lamb— what was that supposed to mean? That Taemin could ever love him? It felt more likely that he’d done to protect them all, to get revenge for what’d happened to Jongin.

“Do you know what I am?” Taeyong finally managed to force past his lips. It was a moment of strength that he hadn’t ever imagined he’d have in him, but he did it, and he could feel the way both of them stiffened, like the question caught them off guard, but he knew he’d hit a nerve. It was hard not to jump to conclusions.

“Not really.” Ten was the one who spoke from behind him, arms hanging over his shoulders and toying the sapphire that hung around his chest. Even now he knew they were both wearing theirs. “I’ve never met anyone like you and your power was almost nonexistent, I didn’t think much of it. Now I realise it’s because someone managed to lock away your . . . abilities.” Taeyong’s brows furrowed a little at that, eyes turning back down to his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s an incredibly powerful enchantment, I’ve never seen anything like it — your power was sealed away, so you appeared human. Didn’t even leave a trace. The only times you’d ever been able to use it—“

“Was when I was in danger,” Taeyong finished.

“The second time you somehow managed to break through a bit, even if there’s still remnants. Now you’re just a ball of unbridled energy, Taeyong, I’ve never felt anything like it.” Taeyong was silent for a few minutes as he considered it all, but then he looked back up to where Taemin was still sitting beside him, those eyes so soft as their gazes met and not bothering to hide anything.

“Do you know, Taemin?”

“I suspected,” he admitted without any shame, reaching out to card his fingers through Taeyong’s hair. “But I assumed, like Ten, it was very distant. blood; if I’d been sure I would’ve told you.” Taeyong didn’t have any reason to truly believe that was the case, but he knew that Taemin would never lie to him about something like that, and even so there never would’ve been a reason to hide it.

“And now?” Taemin _had_ to know. Had to be able to feel it if what Jongdae said was true.

“Now . . . I still don’t know exactly.” His heart sunk, burning with the beginnings of betrayal,but then Taemin continued. “But I’ve met a rare few with blood like yours. Admittedly none like _you_ , but close enough for me to be able to tell that your power is very distinctly Fae.” Taeyong let out a breath he hadn’t know he’d been holding, one of his hands reaching up to cover Ten’s that was still on his chest, leaning more heavily against Taemin’s side as he let his eyes flutter closed. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, Taeyong, but, well.”

“Jongdae,” Taeyong just confirmed. He’d been too focused on his patient, and then of course that same patient had told him that he had an idea of what he was, that he knew someone like him. Yixing. Maybe . . . maybe he’d be able to see him, before they left to return to their own kingdom. Just to ask some questions.

“You sound tired, Yong,” Ten murmured against the side of his neck, and Taeyong just smiled, trying not to think back to the garden. To Lucas. It’d taken everything for him to walk away, but he was proud of himself for not being selfish, no matter how much he’d wanted. Maybe he could afford just a little bit of selfishness right now.

“Sleepy,” he admitted quietly, not fighting at all when he was led to lay down against the soft sheets, instead leaning into each touch. Ten let him rest his head against his chest, the steady staccato of his heart soothing all Taeyong’s worries as Taemin’s fingers carded through his hair, reclined in the space by his back but not crowding too close, almost like he was just watching them.

“Get some rest, kitten.”

“Not ‘little mouse’?” He mumbled against the fabric of Ten’s shirt, earning a chuckle from behind him.

“No, not mouse anymore, you’ve got claws.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /He supposed part of him was still in disbelief, holding back like it was trying to protect himself from the inevitable pain that he’d feel when he woke up from this perfect dream, because it was too perfect to be real.
> 
> But Taemin was real, seated behind him and holding him close, and so was Lucas who was stroking fingers through his hair. Grounding him.
> 
> “You don’t have to say yes, Yong, we can wait,” Mark reassured, watching him like he was worried, but Taeyong shook his head. He didn’t consider maybe they thought that was a rejection at first. 
> 
> “No, I mean— yes. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. All of you.”/
> 
> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	18. Part 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong finds himself in a tricky situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO ONLY TOOK ME 18 CHAPTERS

Taeyong felt like he was in the middle of some sort of feud, and he really, really didn’t like it.

He’d eventually returned to his own room last night to sleep, and he’d hoped that maybe today would be easier, that magically he wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that yesterday Lucas had . . . well, he hadn’t let it get that far, but there’d been a look in the other’s eyes, something he knew had been mirrored in his own as they’d sat underneath the tree. He’d wanted nothing more than to kiss him. But he couldn’t let that happen, wouldn’t after what he’d seen, and besides, he had, gods, Taeyong wasn’t even sure. Whatever the hell Taemin was, and then there was Mark, and, well, everything. It was all a big mess.

Taeyong had never felt _promiscuous_ before, and it wasn’t like he wanted to just go around sleeping with everyone, in fact most of the time that wasn’t even his line of thought, but it was the only word he could think of to describe it. It wasn’t right. Perhaps he wished he could blame this on whoever the hell, or whatever the hell, he was, but deep down he knew it wasn’t anything to do with his magic — it was just him.

He’d been nervous to go to breakfast, yet when he’d walked in he hadn’t even been able to make it towards an empty seat before Taemin had reached out to pull him in, not giving him any warning whatsoever before he was seated on the other’s thigh with an arm around his waist and one of those playful little smirks directed his way. Taeyong’s heart had hammered in his chest and he’d just stared, wide eyed like a startled rabbit. The elder looked so relaxed and proud of himself, hand rubbing over his hip as he raised his fork up, laden with fruit, to hover in front of his lips; Taeyong would blame it on his surprise, the way he didn’t even hesitate to accept. His lips sealed around the fruit and he let out a pleased little noise, chewing it a few times in his mouth before his fruit bobbed as he swallowed.

Metal groaned before clinking down against a plate, and when he finally glanced over he noticed everyone staring with such a wide variety of emotions that he couldn’t even bring himself to focus on anyone in particular. Taeyong’s stomach sunk when his first thought was Mark, but the other was watching and didn’t seem to be fuming or hurt — for once he was unreadable. No, it was Lucas who’d caused the noise; the fork that fell from his fingers was bent out of shape in a way that would’ve been comical in any other circumstances, expression filled with an obvious hurt.

“Lucas,” Ten spoke softly as the other pushed up out of his chair, setting a hand on his arm like asking him to stay. In contrast, Ten didn’t seem upset or even overly shocked. “Sit back down, ba—“

“No, this isn’t— it’s not fair, hyung.” That last bit was directed at Taemin. Taeyong wanted to sink into the floor and had no idea what the hell he was supposed to be saying or doing right now, but the elder was just sitting back in his chair and hadn’t let go, looking far too pleased with the situation.

“No, it’s not, is it.?”

“What the hell, Min? That’s uncalled for,” Jongin was the one to speak up, looking a little angry himself, but Taemin just arched an eyebrow in response. Taeyong swallowed thickly and moved to pull away a little but that grip around his waist was firm despite how gentle it was, keeping him close no matter what.

“It’s entirely called for — you humans are so _dense_ sometimes, dancing around each other without ever making a move even though it’s so obvious what you desire.” Jongin’s gaze darkened at that and it had Taeyong squirming a little, lips parting to ask what the hell was going on.

“Oh I forgot, because you’re so above us, right?”

“No,” Taemin hummed, “but you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing you all torture yourself needlessly.” Taeyong was irrevocably confused. “Lucas, come here.” It looked like the man in question wanted to tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine, jaw ticking as he stared, but eventually he moved forward and around the table to stand near them, and Taeyong certainly couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. “Do you want to kiss him, Taeyong?” The pale haired male almost went the colour of his hair at that, eyes wide. He couldn’t be blamed for the way he balked a little. This all felt like a rather cruel joke.

“I—“

“Answer truthfully,” Taemin implored, a spark in his gaze that made it seem like he knew. Taeyong realised that he did, somehow. Even so he was still silent for a few moments, searching the other’s eyes for _something_ , for anger or repulsion or something of the sort, something negative, but there was nothing. Not only that, but no one seemed as outraged by what was unfolding as he’d figured they would be. There was no disgust. Hell, Baekhyun was watching like he not only understood but was waiting for some sort of show, and Ten’s gaze was just encouraging.

“Yes,” he finally admitted, barely even audible as he stared down at his lap before forcing himself to glance up and survey the other’s reaction.

Gone was that anger and pain. Lucas just looked . . . gods, he looked so happy in a way that made Taeyong want to smile too. “Go on, then,” he heard Taemin speak, fingers grazing over his ribs, but all he could do was stare and try to focus on breathing as one of Lucas’s hands cupped his cheek, almost dwarfing his face really. The other leaned down before Taeyong could second guess himself. Kissing Lucas was everything he’d ever expected and more; it was so warm and gentle, the other smiling against his lips like he couldn’t help himself and knocking their noses in a way that made him want to laugh, like he was overeager. It was so incredibly endearing. So perfect that for a moment he forgot about the fact they had an audience.

“Damn, I wanted to be first,” Baekhyun spoke up from where he was sitting, a little smirk curling at his lips, and despite that obvious interest there was a softness to his gaze. Taeyong instantly flushed as he and Lucas parted, a sick sort of feeling curling in his gut. What was he doing?

“Too bad, Taemin kissed him at the ball,” Ten hummed with a warm smile.

“I beat all of you.” The last thing he expected was for Mark to speak up, looking proud of himself like this had, what, been some sort of competition? He was so confused. “I kissed him way before the ball.”

“No fair,” Baekhyun huffed, earning a rich laugh from behind him that was so genuine.

“You’ll get your turn, pet.”

“Y’know, it’s not as funny as you think it is when you call us your pets,” Baekhyun retorted, and Taeyong felt like he could feel just how amused Taemin was by that.

“Rich, coming from you.” He didn’t understand that comment or why it made the elder fluster a little, or why it had Jongin choking back a laugh or Lucas going red, but then again he didn’t understand any of this.

“Taemin.” Ten was the one who interrupted the banter, giving him a pointed look. “You’re just as bad as the rest of them, Taeyong looks like he’s about to pass out. Yongie, sweetie, we’re not making fun of you, it’s just . . . not the easiest thing to explain, yeah? There’s nothing wrong with what you feel.”

“I don’t—“

“I love Jongin, you know?” Taeyong fell silent with wide eyes. “Even if he can be too kind for his own good. But I also love Mark, and Lucas, no matter how silly they can be sometimes, and Baekhyun regardless of how infuriating he is at times, and Taemin,” the other paused, lips twitching, “I tolerate Taemin.”

“Ruthless,” Taemin hummed, lips grazing at his shoulder, but he didn’t sound hurt, just amused. Fond.

“I’m joking, of course I love him too, we all do — what we have, it’s special, and we’d rather share it all together than stay apart and regret it. We adore you, Taeyong, and you . . . well, you can feel it too, can’t you?”

Taeyong wasn’t sure if he’d even breathed at all during the other’s words but he forced himself to inhale and ease that burn in his lungs, head swimming as he tried to piece everything he was hearing. Ten was saying that he, that everyone . . . part of him struggled to believe how that was possible, how it could ever work, but he’d seen it, hadn’t he? That night at the ball, the way they all interacted with each other. That selfless devotion. Mark’s comment that he’d needed to sort some things out too. Jongdae’s words, even, which made him realise other people were capable of noticing too.

There was another part of him that could feel the truth in everything that Ten was saying. Feel that link between all of them, something that seemed almost, dare he say it, predestined. Like Jongin’s speech about threads at the ball.

They were all tied together.

“If you have each other, why would you want me?” He still found himself asking, unsure of the answer he was searching for.

“You don’t see yourself the way we see you, Taeyong,” Jongin murmured, voice so incredibly tender as he glanced over, throat bobbing. “You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re so _brave,_ and you . . . it feels right. This isn’t something we’d want to share with just anyone, you know? You’re special.” Taeyong couldn’t quite help the way his eyes started to burn; he was more overwhelmed by all of this than he’d ever care to admit, but in a good way, only a good way. He supposed part of him was still in disbelief, holding back like it was trying to protect himself from the inevitable pain that he’d feel when he woke up from this perfect dream, because it was too perfect to be real.

But Taemin was real, seated behind him and holding him close, and so was Lucas who was stroking fingers through his hair. Grounding him.

“You don’t have to say yes, Yong, we can wait,” Mark reassured, watching him like he was worried, but Taeyong shook his head. He didn’t consider maybe they thought that was a rejection at first.

“No, I mean— yes. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. All of you.”

— 

With the gravity of the situation, you’d think things would, well, change. But they didn’t. Not in any major way at least, nothing that could be overly noticeable to an outsider, because the truth was they’d been looking out for Taeyong like he was one of their own since they’d met him, whether they’d been aware of it or not. Perhaps the most noticeable change was that there was less awkwardness, though Jongin couldn’t really say the tension had disappeared, it’d just transformed into something else. They didn’t have to pretend anymore, but it meant lots of eye contact and lots of casual touching, even more than there’d already been; fingers slotted together, an arm around someone’s waist or shoulder, more hugs.

It wasn’t like they were all just going to strip the moment things were finally resolved, even if it’d seemed Baekhyun had been hoping for something of the sort.

Jongin hadn’t even stuck around for very long after everyone had started to talk, he’d just pressed a soft kiss to Taeyong’s forehead before claiming he had some things to do. It wasn’t a lie, not really. They had lots they needed to figure out, like who’d been behind all of this if not the northern kingdom who were now tentative allies, and what they were going to do about it. He, for one, wasn’t going to rest until he had their head on a platter.

Coming after him was one thing, but it hadn’t just been him. He could never get Taeyong’s terror-filled face out of his mind, the fear on Mark’s face, how helpless he’d felt as he’d fallen down and felt the life drain from him. They hadn’t just hurt him, they’d hurt his family.

That was something that Jongin wouldn’t— no, _couldn’t_ forgive.

Even so, it was rather difficult to focus on any of that when all he could focus on was what it felt like to die. Taemin had reassured him that he’d been alive when they came across them, but the thing was that he could remember it so clearly. If you asked Jongin what it was like, all he’d be able to say was nothing; it was the single most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced. Whether Taeyong knew it or not, when he’d saved them, he’d saved his life. Brought him back.

He hated that part of him wished he hadn’t, because it felt . . . wrong. The first thing Jongin had noticed since he’d woken up back in the castle was that he could no longer dream — he’d just fall into nothingness each time he closed his eyes and it, gods, it was too close to what he’d experienced. He couldn’t sleep. Was too scared to, he supposed, which was why he’d been in his own bed each night so he could lay here awake without anyone worrying over him. He didn’t like sleeping alone, but it was better than the alternative right now. At least this way he could stay awake and try to work towards something, which currently was narrowing down their list of possible enemies. It was stilll much longer than he would’ve liked.

It was already late by the time there was a knock on his door, late enough that they’d all sat and eaten dinner together. Jongin had watched with a tired smile the entire time as everyone seemed to vie for Taeyong’s attention, something the younger probably hadn’t realised because somehow he didn’t seen to understand just how much they adored him. It’d been nice to see everyone so happy regardless of everything that’d happened. His own slice of heaven that he’d do anything to protect, just like he’d always done.

“Come in,” he called quietly, pushing some of his hair back and wincing at the pain in his lower back as he sat up straighter at his desk, turning his gaze over to the door. It was Taeyong who poked his head inside, biting at his lip and holding a steaming cup as he tentatively stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked beautiful as always, a little softer given he seemed to be in his sleep clothes and his hair was smoothed down over his forehead. Made him look younger in a way. “Hey,” Jongin murmured, turning in his chair a little.

“I noticed you looked tired today, so I made you something to help you sleep,” the other spoke softly. Jongin’s heart instantly sunk. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the gesture, he did, more than anything, but sleep, well, it was the last thing he wanted right now. But Taeyong was looking at him so earnestly as he held out the drink, and he couldn’t bring himself to say no. The king offered a soft smile before nodding and taking it in one hand, noting just how good it smelt as he raised it up to take a whiff before having a small sip. It tasted good, too, unlike any remedies that Ten had ever concocted for them in the past.

“Thank you, Yongie,” he offered, and it was worth it just for that adorable little smile he got in response. “Would you like to stay for a little while?” Jongin felt oddly nervous even asking, but it seemed he wasn’t alone as he watched the other pick at his sleeve before nodding a little, looking like to draw up another chair before Jongin figured to hell with it and reached out to gently tug the other closer. “This okay?” He hadn’t exactly pulled the other into his lap — he wasn’t going to rush things, even if this was completely innocent, but he did like the idea of the other being close. They’d sat similar to this before anyway, Taeyong half on his thigh. There was a pause for a moment before the younger nodded, looking over a little.

“Yeah, I’m just . . .”

“Nervous?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Me too,” Jongin admitted without any shame, taking another long sip of his drink; maybe it was just the fact he’d been awake for two days alread, but he felt like the remedy was already starting to take effect on him. “Don’t look at me like that,” he chuckled, “of course I am — I want to do this right, even if it’s unconventional. You deserve only the best.” That had Taeyong flushing which was just absolutely adorable, really, certainly dangerous for his heart, but they both smiled.

“I expected it to feel different,” the younger hummed finally, “but it doesn’t. Now I just don’t feel as scared about how I feel.” Jongin nodded at that, finishing his drink before setting the cup down and steadying the other with one arm around his waist, the other picking the quill he’d set down back up, tapping over the page idly. He didn’t know how to narrow the list down any more.

“It gets easier,” he promised. “I still remember when I met Ten. It’d always just been Mark and I but he was younger and I didn’t want to take advantage of him, you know? I thought I was just projecting, but Ten has this way of luring you in, I didn’t realise what I felt was real for a long time. It scared me, but Ten . . . he made it seem so simple. That I didn’t have to lose anyone. The way I see it, the more love you put into the world the more you get back, and it seemed to work.” Taeyong was smiling at him, just staring with a look he couldn’t quite place. “What?”

“You just . . . when you talk, it’s impossible to look away,” the other murmured, only to pause and laugh, burying his face in his hands. “Gods, that was so cheesy, I’m sorry it just came out.”

“Hey, I like cheesy,” Jongin chuckled, prying Taeyong’s hands away and meeting his gaze, only to pause. For a moment they just looked at each other and then he let out a small puff of air, leaning in a little, but before he could get far a yawn rose up in his throat and he ended up pressing his forehead against the other’s forehead.

“And that’s my cue,” Taeyong murmured fondly, fingers petting through his hair before he carefully slid out of his lap. Jongin at least had the sense to follow and get out of his chair, rubbing at his eyes as another yawn left him before glancing towards his empty bed. It was just fabric and wood but it seemed so, well, terrifying. He knew what waited him in sleep.

“Taeyong?” He found himself speaking up, barely audible.

“Yeah?”

“Will you . . .” he trailed off, glancing over to where the other had a hand on the door. “Will you stay with me? Please?” Jongin knew it was a stupid request and he was about to take it back before the other nodded, padding back over to where he was and hesitantly crawling up onto the bed. He’d given Taemin the royal suite, but his own quarters were still impressive and the bed was big enough for a lot of people, meaning Taeyong looked so small sitting in the middle of it, staring at him and waiting so innocently. He was still scared, but that fear wasn’t as crippling as he crawled up onto the silk sheets to join him, arms wrapping around the smaller male and drawing him close to his chest.

“Sleep well, Jongin.”

—

Taeyong fell asleep in Jongin’s arms, but when he opened his eyes he was sitting in the corner of a room that he took a moment to realise was Taemin’s — he’d know those thick red sheets anywhere, the way the satin reflected in the light as . . . oh. _Oh._ It was natural that his eyes would be drawn towards the two figures on the bed in front of him, senses honing in on not just the energy dancing in the air but the smell of desire, the sound of wet skin and moans. It was Ten he noted first, completely bare and seated on top of tanned, meaty thighs that he quickly realised were Lucas’s when he heard the other’s voice — he was facing him, and it felt like he was staring right into his soul.

Ten was stunning. He always was, but there was something different about this. It was like he was putting on a performance, the way he writhed and moan, sweat glistening like diamonds under the light and eyes holding an inhuman glow that he’d never seen so intensely before. He looked more like a god than a man.

Taeyong _assumed_ that it was a dream, though he supposed that with his track record perhaps he should’ve known that it’d never be just a dream for him. It felt so real but he’d still watched, wanting nothing more than to reach out and join them; maybe he’d kiss his way down Ten’s chest, trail fingers down in his wake and curl them around his cock like he’d seen Mark do that time, or maybe he’d rather be in Ten’s place instead, have Lucas fucking up into him like that with giant hands curled around his waist. What would Ten do then? Would he just watch, or would he come closer and give them direction, card his fingers through Taeyong’s hair like always seemed to like doing.

Gods, maybe Ten would fuck him. Maybe the other way around. Maybe he could even get the other to lose him composure if he used his mouth to bring him off in the way he’d seen happen before.

Taeyong had never had much experience before with, well, anything, but he wanted to learn, wanted nothing more than to be that centre of attention and be able to touch them as he craved.

In a blur, someone seemed to appear in front of him like they’d been sitting in the chair he was also occupying, and as the figure stood and solidified Taeyong sort of realised that this wasn’t a dream — it was too real. He’d fallen asleep and, what, found himself in Taemin’s consciousness? That didn’t even seem possible. “Look at you two,” Taemin purred as he watched the elder walk over to the bed, seemingly not phased in the slightest by the lewd display in front of him.

“Would be nicer if you joined,” Ten managed, breathless as he leant into the hadn’t that cupped his cheek; a choked moan almost interrupted his words as Lucas gave a particularly hard thrust, something that had Taeyong’s stomach pooling with a heat so intense he couldn’t help the way he squeezed his thighs together. It’d be wrong, wouldn’t it? To get off to this? Especially knowing that if he woke up and went to Taemin’s room he’d find them like this. His fingers still inched downwards, sort of stopping at his lower stomach and just pressing, dangerously close to where he wanted. 

“Not tonight,” Taemin hummed as he leant down, grazing their lips together and drinking up all those moans that fell from them, feeding on it and letting the energy flow into him. “Tonight I want to watch you come apart.”

Taeyong couldn’t help the breathy little noise that finally slipped past his lips as he palmed himself, just a barely there motion before feline eyes were snapping his way in surprise.

As quickly as it happened the scene was gone and replaced by a dimly light room as his eyes fluttered open, the last remnants of sleep washing away as he recognised that pleasant ache in his pants. Taeyong just laid there for a moment, breathing heavily. That hadn’t been a dream, and at the end it . . . surely Taemin hadn’t been able to see him. He hadn’t truly been there. The thought alone was enough to have him holding back a groan.

As much as he wanted to relieve himself he was in Jongin’s bed, Jongin who was fast asleep with his face mushed into the pillow and drooling. Cute. Taeyong took a few minutes to properly collect himself before huffing and rolling in closer to cuddle back up, ignoring the desire still bubbling inside him even as he closed his eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“Don’t look at me like that,” Taeyong laughed as he shied away, but the other just pulled him in closer and they tumbled until they were laying down and he was half on top of the other’s chest, looking down at him with those hands curled around his wrists.
> 
> “I can look at you as much as I want now,” Mark mused with a cheeky grin, reaching up to brush petals out of this hair. “You said yes. No take backs.”
> 
> “No take backs,” Taeyong promised with a grin of his own, those worries in the back of his mind barely even audible and drowned out by the warmth flowing through him as he leant down to press their lips together./
> 
> as always I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	19. Part 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong takes some time to relax and savour his new life, even as danger looms in the distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you don't understand how long I've been waiting to write that scene of Ten & Taeyong with the chamomile, I alluded to it back in like chapter 7 lmao. A bit of a self indulgent filler chapter to lighten the mood c:

Ten would be the first to admit that he hadn’t been the biggest fan of Taeyong at first. For one, he’d always been wary of, well, everyone, and those who could wield magic certainly weren’t an exception, but it wasn’t just that — he was a part of Mark’s past they’d all heard about, and Ten wasn’t immune to insecurity. Part of him had feared they’d lose Mark to that, just like he’d feared they’d lose Jongin to this, to his birth right. He’d known even then it was foolish, but hell, they had almost lost Jongin because of his position because assassination attempts seemed to be part of the job description these days.

There’d been something about Taeyong from the start that he just knew was different but he’d never been able to place his finger on it, and Ten didn’t like not knowing things. He supposed he’d wanted a reason not to trust him, not to let him close, not to let him invade their tightly knit circle, yet the more he’d gotten to know him . . . well, the more it’d been Ten bringing him into the fold. It’d never been easy for him to get close to people, but he was starting to think that maybe he’d been the first one to truly fall for Taeyong, beyond his breathtaking looks. He’d taken the other under his wing and had tried to teach him everything he could, and whilst he’d expected the other to give up he never had, even when it seemed things were helpless.

He’d been so resilient, so strong. So _interesting_. 

Jongin had always joked he was a bit of a mother duck, and maybe he was.

Ten had watched from the sidelines as everyone started to see what he had, as they started to fall for Taeyong — he’d held Lucas at night and listened to him gush about his time in the city with the other male or tease Mark about his staring or try not to tease Baekhyun over the fondness in his voice when they discussed him while they worked. He watched Jongin sneak away to spend time with Taeyong and forced himself not to intervene, not just because Jongin was an adult and could make his own decisions but because he could see the toll his new mantle as king was taking and as much as he worried he felt that maybe his hyung needed some time to unwind. Besides, it seemed to make Taeyong happy.

He watched Taemin change.

Taemin had been the last to come into their relationship, if that was what it could’ve been called beforehand, but at the time he’d felt like a sort of missing link — he’d made them get over all their hang ups and worries and he’d made them realised they deserved to be happy no matter what that entailed. Maybe the elder was a little bit emotionally stunted, maybe he was a little odd, but he was so impossibly good no matter what people might assume. Ten had seen evil, and he saw none of that in Taemin.

So, seeing Taemin fall for Taeyong too had felt like something even more special, since he’d never gotten to see it happen before. Taemin had never said he loved them, but he didn’t need to. He just worked in mysterious ways. Even so, Ten couldn’t deny that there’d been times where they’d gotten into heated arguments over it despite how close they were, that there’d been a whole week at one point where he’d refused to talk to the elder after the scene he’d pulled in the dining hall where he’d upset Taeyong.

It felt surreal to know that this was the cultivation of all that. Taeyong not only knew what they were but he accepted it, accepted _them_ , and he wanted them — not just one or two like that small part of Ten had always irrationally feared, but all of them. It was just a matter of letting things unfold.

Ten had waited this long, so he wasn’t in any particular sort of rush. Despite how much he may have wanted to go find the other and kiss him silly he hadn’t, because he wanted it to be romantic. Not just that, but he wanted it to feel right. Besides, he had five other partners to seek out if he was lonely or wanted company and this wasn’t about the novelty of having a new toy to play with; didn’t mean he wasn’t going to see him though. It was normal that he’d often find his way to the apothecary, and this morning he’d gone there earlier than usual, not bothering to hide the patchwork of bruises over his throat that peeked out from the edge of his shirt. Huh. He wasn’t there. He’d been about to leave and head to get breakfast, but then Taeyong had come through the door in his night clothes, still rubbing at his eyes until he noticed Ten standing there.

“Oh, I . . .” he seemed to be staring at the hickeys and it made Ten’s lips twitch. “I was with Jongin.” Ten couldn’t help the way he arched an eyebrow, but hell, who could blame him? The other stumbling back in here in early hours of the morning and claiming to have slept in someone else’s room. “I— gods, no, not like _that_ , I just, well, I took him a sleeping draught last night because you mentioned he didn’t seem to be sleeping well and he asked me to stay.”

Ten’s eyes softened a little at that and he stepped forward, letting out a small chuckle as he indulged a little by slumping against the other and pressing a kiss to his shoulder, just a small graze of his lips. “It’s okay, even if you did, but I was just teasing,” he reassured, pulling back enough to meet Taeyong’s eyes. It was so adorable that he was flustered. “Did he sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Taeyong promised.

“That’s good. What about you, Yongie?” It was an innocent enough question but the pale haired male seemed to have trouble processing it, just staring like he was nervous before he gave an odd little sound. 

“I slept . . . yes,” he blurted. “I’m guessing you did?” Taeyong glanced to his throat before turning a little to idly fiddle with things on the bench and Ten just smiled, leaning his hip against the counter and watching. As much as he loved the confidence, it was still cute to see him like this, treading so carefully like a baby lamb. It was painfully clear he wasn’t used to any of this, but that was okay — Ten had taught him many things, and this didn’t have to be an exception. 

“I didn’t do much sleeping,” he answered honestly, reaching out to grab one of the small flowers from a nearby bowl — chamomile. He could’ve sworn these had been starting to wilt yesterday but they seemed as fresh as the moment he’d picked them. Ten cocked his head a little as fingers drifted up to tuck the little blossom behind Taeyong’s ear, touch lingering as he stared. “Do you still remember what I taught you about chamomile?” Taeyong stared at him, eyes wide, but he nodded.

“I used some last night for Jongin, it helps with sleep and healing, and magically with protection and purification.” Poor baby, he looked so sure of himself.

“You promised me you wouldn’t forget,” Ten huffed, pouting a little as he spoke, and he could see the panic in Taeyong’s gaze.

“What? But that’s—“

“It’s a lucky flower,” he interrupted, tongue dragging over his lip where it’d split a little during his activities last night. “You can wear it for good fortune, or . . .”

“To attract a lover,” Taeyong finished quickly, like he finally remembered, but the moment the words left his lips his eyes widened a little and flickered from Ten’s gaze to his lips. 

“Guess it worked,” was all Ten murmured before he leant in, one hand on the other’s shoulder as he just barely ghosted their lips together. He paused and waited to make sure it was okay before chuckling when Taeyong shuddered under his touch. “Must be a _very_ lucky flower, Lee Taeyong.”Ten shifted closer until he was half draped over the other male and smiling against his lips. Each little kiss was so incredibly gentle and tender, innocent really, fingers carding through the hairs at the nape of the other’s neck while he felt Taeyong set hands on his waist almost reverently. 

“I’m feeling absolutely famished,” Ten drawled after a few minutes. He made a note of how breathless and dazed the other male seemed and laced their fingers together. “Let’s go get breakfast, Yongie.”

—

It was Baekhyun’s job as spymaster to know everything that went on in the city, and anything of importance in the kingdom — it was a big job, but no one knew more secrets than him and there was no one better suited to the job. He had a way of getting information out of anyone. By default, he was supposed to report anything he needed to right to Jongin, but given everything his king had endured lately he’d been, well, omitting some truths. Not _lying_ , because while he was all for lying to get what he wanted he wasn’t sure he could ever truly lie to his Jongin.

Jongin didn’t need to know that the mess that Taeyong had left behind, namely the bodies, had all disappeared without a trace, nor the oracle card that’d been pinned to one of the trees as a clear warning when he’d gone back to investigate. Even now it was tucked into Baekhyun’s coat so that there was no risk of anyone finding it.

Death.

Trading secrets wasn’t necessarily part of the job description but he felt it was warranted given the situation, and besides, their newest allies seemed fairly trustworthy compared to most — the fact that King Minseok hadn’t tried to kill them for what they’d done had been proof enough that he was a good man, and whilst good men didn’t always make the best kings they _were_ trustworthy. Not to mention, his, uh, advisors, were interesting. Baekhyun had struck a quick friendship with them, and maybe learning more about fae blood wasn’t for the good of the kingdom per se but it was knowledge he wanted to have so that he could understand Taeyong more. Jongdae was like a partner in crime, but he was also smart, cunning, and he knew things about the inner workings of other courts that were invaluable.

“None of them have a reason to take out your king, especially since he’s so pleasant and easy to work with — if one of them is at fault, I’d place my bet on outside influence, someone who doesn’t want to be implicated in this but has something to gain.”

“You’re a genius,” he’d hummed, grinning.

“I know.”

“Baekhyun, please don’t stroke Jongdae’s ego. As much as I love him, his head’s already big enough,” Yixing spoke up from where his hand was settled over the other’s back, eyes closed and a faint glow seeming to shimmer around him as he continued to heal his lover. Baekhyun still felt guilty for the fact he was responsible for some of those blows no matter how much Jongdae had insisted it was fine. 

“That’s fae magic, right?” He found himself asking instead, moving to get a much better look at the light flowing from Yixing’s palms. The other hummed in confirmation. “Is it . . . are there things I can do to help him?” Baekhyun murmured, looking almost nervous as he spoke. It was Jongdae that answered him. 

“Yixing said that nature helps him — it’s the root of all magic, after all, even if mine’s more twisted.I destroy so I can create, but those with fae blood don’t destroy unless they have to, they just transform things. It’s why they’re better suited to defensive magic and healing. Then again, most fae magic you see these days is so diluted, but your boy, Taeyong, his is so pure. He has to be, what?”

“At least half,” Yixing chimed in as he opened his eyes again and pulled back, pressing a kiss to Jongdae’s shoulder and rearranging his shirt back over him. “Which is unheard of. No one has seen a fae for hundreds of years, they don’t mingle with humans anymore. If I didn’t know better I’d say more.”

“Yong said his parents were a healer and a castle guard,” Baekhyun hummed. Nothing magical.

“Maybe his mother had a secret fae lover, somehow. I mean, she was a healer, maybe that was the appeal.”

“Maybe,” he sighed, card a heavy weight in the inside of his coat. Why did he feel like all of this was connected?

—

“You know, you never actually gave me an answer,” Mark hummed as they sat together under the tree Taeyong had been at only two days ago, talking to Lucas. Somehow that felt like a lifetime ago, even though it’d probably been less than forty-eight hours. Taeyong let out a small hum where he was leaning his head against the other’s shoulders, fingers tangled as he idly traced over the ornate wring on Mark’s hand, the one holding a stone similar to his own necklace. 

“Do you need one?” Taeyong queried in response, turning his head and burying closer like he was trying to hide away from the world. He was still having trouble comprehending how any of this could possibly be real. He’d kissed Lucas yesterday, had slept in Jongin’s bed, and this morning Ten had come up to him in the apothecary and made his heart flutter dangerously before their lips had even touched. Now he was sitting beside Mark with their hands curled together, allowing himself to be as close as he’d always wanted.

“No.” The pale haired male was silent for a few moments as he considered it.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids, Mark — maybe not the way I do now, but you’ve always meant the world to me. I hope you never doubt that,” he murmured softly, even though the other had said that he didn’t need an answer. Mark deserved one. “My answer was always going to be yes.” Taeyong felt the other shift under him a little and when he glanced up Mark was grinning, that goofy little smile that he knew far too well. “Don’t look at me like that,” Taeyong laughed as he shied away, but the other just pulled him in closer and they tumbled until they were laying down and he was half on top of the other’s chest, looking down at him with those hands curled around his wrists.

“I can look at you as much as I want now,” Mark mused with a cheeky grin, reaching up to brush petals out of this hair. “You said yes. No take backs.”

“No take backs,” Taeyong promised with a grin of his own, those worries in the back of his mind barely even audible and drowned out by the warmth flowing through him as he leant down to press their lips together. Sealing their deal with a kiss rather than a pinky promise like they had back then. Maybe _some_ things had changed since they were kids.

“So cute.” Taeyong didn’t even have time to doubt himself as another body plopped down onto the ground and instantly reached forward to press a lazy kiss to his cheek as he sat up a bit better. All he could do was sit and try not to focus on the way his chest felt like it was about to explode at such a casual gesture of affection, watching as Lucas leaned down to give Mark a similar kiss, hitting his lips instead with an exaggerated noise and leaning back against the tree. The taller male giggled as he looked between them, giddy. “That’s going to take a while to get used to.” Yeah, Taeyong knew what he meant.

“We were having a moment,” Mark huffed as he sat up but even Taeyong could see the smile on his lips.

“And you can have more— oh, Mark, want to know something interesting?”

“Mm?” Taeyong had never seen Lucas look so mischievous before.

“Taeyong saw us and Baekhyun the other night,” he hummed matter of factly, causing Mark to instantly flush and Taeyong to splutter for some sort of response. Gods, he’d sort of forgotten that he’d admitted that to Lucas during their almost kiss under this same tree, and in hindsight he should’ve known that it’d come back to bite him at some point. He definitely didn’t want to think about the fact he’d seen Lucas naked twice, now, both times an unintentional voyeur.

“Yukhei,” he tried to admonish, but the other just grinned.

“What? We do that all the time.” He said it so _casually_. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, its sort of hot that you saw us, especially since Mark was talking about you—“ All Taeyong could do was stare as Mark all but tackled the other and pressed a hand over his mouth to shut him up, which quickly just turned into the pair wrestling about on the ground like children; it shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was. He was embarrassed that he’d been caught out, yeah, but he also . . . well, he wondered what Mark had been saying. Maybe he’d have to ask someone else. 

“You’re getting covered in dirt,” Taeyong tried to scold, only to let out a choked noise of surprise when he was dragged down into the pile. He couldn’t help but laugh, shoving at the pair playfully as fingers tickled over his ribs and had him kicking about like a frantic bug, face screwed up into an expression that was utterly content despite his playful screams. All of them were too focused to notice the way that the garden kept coming alive around them, flowers blooming and slowly spreading out further than the tree above them which stood tall and in full bloom despite the fact it was winter and had been bare a week ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“But you fell in love,” Taeyong murmured, lips twitching into a soft smile. 
> 
> “I’ve never been human — I don’t know if I’m capable of feeling love,” Taemin answered quietly and covered the hand with his own, drawing it up to his lips and pressing kisses over his knuckles before moving to his wrist, shifting further up his arm and maintaining his gaze the whole time. “Does that bother you?”
> 
> “Does that bother you?” Taeyong countered softly./
> 
> as always I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	20. Part 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise and Taeyong finds himself letting go a little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, I don't usually update so late in the day, but I've been very busy preparing to take in two rescue rats for the past few days :)
> 
> E for some spice because they're horny boys and have a mind of their own

A pair of hands slammed down onto the table and everyone promptly stopped talking, six pairs of eyes turning to the head of the table where Jongin was sitting, expression clearly frustrated. Taeyong could _see_ the exhaustion there and he was at the point where he was going to start staying to make sure that the other actually drank the sleeping draughts he was making him, because it was so obvious he wasn’t, which meant he was probably tipping them out when he left. Which was okay, he guessed, but he hated that the other felt the need to lie about it. That he wouldn’t just talk to them about what was bothering him. Taeyong was worried, and he knew he wasn’t the only one.

“You’re telling me we still don’t know who it was?” Their king said through gritted teeth. Taeyong’s brows furrowed a little and he reached out to set one of his hands over Jongin’s in an effort to soothe him, but it just got subtly shrugged off.

“There’s no evidence, Jongin, and no one knows—“

“It’s your job to know.” Gods, he’d never heard Jongin snap like that at anyone. It seemed he wasn’t the only one caught off guard by the outburst; Baekhyun looked like he was ready to clip the other up the side of the head for talking to him like that, and everyone seemed to be on edge like they were half expecting a fight to break out. Taeyong had only been awake for three days and things just seemed to be getting increasingly more tense even if they’d seemed to be getting better.

Then again, he supposed it was hard to relax knowing that someone had tried to kill them and would probably try again. Too much effort had gone into it for it to be a one off, right? They were all a little on edge but it still didn’t give Jongin an excuse to be as aggressive as he had been lately.

“Go sleep, Jongin, I’m not going to argue with you when you’re grumpy,” Baekhyun murmured, more like a warning than anything. It just seemed to piss Jongin off even more but before the other could even open his mouth or push up from his chair Taemin was beating him to it, pressing a few fingers to the other’s temples before he watched as Jongin slumped down. The elder caught him with ease, smoothing his hair down affectionately and scooping him up into his arms, ignoring the way some of them were gaping.

“Dude, Jongin is going to _kill_ you when he wakes up,” Lucas breathed out nervously, but Taemin just hummed.

“He can try. I’m not going to sit by and watch him kill himself because he’s too scared to sleep.” His gaze turned to Taeyong as he easily held Jongin’s weight, motioning with his head towards the hall. “Help me get him settled.” The white haired male simply nodded, squeezing Baekhyun’s shoulder on the way out before hesitating and leaning in to press a chase kiss to his cheek before he chickened out, slipping out to follow Taemin afterwards. All of this still felt so new, understandably, but he understood what they meant about it feeling right.

“He’s been pouring out the draughts I make him,” Taeyong murmured as they walked down towards Jongin’s bedroom, holding the door open for the older to slip through. “I took him one last night since it worked the night before, but he . . . he didn’t ask me to stay, like last time,” he admitted quietly. “The cup was empty this morning, but he obviously didn’t drink it.” He watched as Taemin gently laid the other down into his bed, making sure he was laid out comfortably before going do far as to pull the blankets up around his chin. 

On the Taemin front things had only been going up — he’d adored the elder beforehand, but now, well, he was lucky enough to see glimpses of the man beneath it all, the one he hadn’t gotten a chance to see much of before. For one, he was ridiculously kind, even if he liked to pretend he wasn’t, and he had a mischievous streak that rivalled even Ten. He could be downright diabolical, but only in the best ways. He also showed a lot more emotion than Taeyong had ever gotten to see beforehand, and that was something he was starting to realise was a great privilege to see, something just for them. Little smiles and laughter and affectionate touches, enough that even though Taemin still seemed to enjoy having his own space and time alone Taeyong didn’t worry each time he reached out. Taemin _always_ seemed to have time for him.

“More than likely,” the warlock hummed as he pulled back, eyes focused on the man on the bed before he turned back to Taeyong, a slight furrow between his brows that most would overlook but that he’d come to recognise as worry. “You can feel it too, can’t you? That he’s different.” Taeyong hesitated for a second before pursing his lips.

“Yes.”

“His soul is troubled,” Taemin continued, sitting on the edge of bed and guiding Taeyong to sit beside him, not holding him but just keeping him close by like he seemed to favour. “One day I’ll teach you to do that, too, to see souls.”

“You think I could?”

“I know you could, kitten, you’re too strong not to, even if you don’t feel it yet. You’re still getting your strength back after what you did. I . . .I’ve never seen anything like it.” Taeyong’s brows furrowed a little at that. “You knew, when you woke up — Ten told me how you kept insisting Jongin had died, and you’re right. He did, even if only for a few moments, but you brought him back /somehow/. Don’t you get it? You did something even I could never do.”

Taeyong wanted to protest, but he, gods, he knew it was true; he could still remember what it’d felt like as Jongin’s last breath had left his lungs, as those gorgeous brown eyes had lost their light and faded to something dull, as his heart had stopped. He’d felt it as if his own body was the one losing life. “I wasn’t scared for myself,” he admitted. “Both times, it— Ten said it was fear for my own life that activated my magic, but it wasn’t. First it was when Mark was in danger, and then when I felt Jongin die it just _exploded_.”

“You were scared for people you love.” Taeyong turned his gaze down to his lap at that, teeth worrying the inside of his lip. He’d deduced as much in his own mind, but it was still completely different to hear those words uttered out loud. It felt like it was making it real. 

“I know how I did it.” His words were barely above a whisper. Taemin just reached out to set a hand on his back, rubbing gently over his skin through the material of his shirt, a steady weight. “I didn’t remember, not at first, I still don’t — it wasn’t like it was a conscious decision I made or like I knew what I was really doing, I just knew that I couldn’t lose him. I knew how much it’d hurt all of you, how I was selfish and couldn’t let go, and I was so _angry_ that anyone had tried to take him away from me. Those men . . . all those lives, I didn’t even hesitate to kill them all to get back what I wanted.”

“Does that scare you?” Taemin’s voice was free of any judgement, in fact it more so just sounded like he was genuinely curious.

“It should,” he murmured. “I’ve always put so much value on life, it’s why I do what I do. I swore I’d never take a life, but if I went back in time I’d still do it to bring him back, no matter what it took. I know they tried to kill us, but they were still people, living, breathing human beings, people with families, innocent people who’ll be hurt by their death — I should feel _something_ other than satisfaction.” Taeyong let out a shaky sigh and shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “I begged Lucas not to tell anyone but something happened, in the marketplace; no one got hurt, I promise. Someone was bothering me and Lucas stepped in, but when he turned around the man pulled a knife and I —well, you know I’ve been practicing with Baekhyun — and I disarmed him. I didn’t even cut him, but I . . .” he trailed off. He didn’t want to say it. “He looked so scared, and _I_ _liked it_. I wanted him to be terrified of what I could do to him.”

“You were protecting Lucas,” Taemin said like it was the simplest thing ever — like it was that easy. Maybe it was and Taeyong was just overthinking everything like usual, but he was starting to feel like that was just a human thing, something the other didn’t seem to understand very much. Taemin didn’t seem to see the world in black and white, it was like he saw every shade in between and accepted all of it regardless of what it was. “I don’t think you want people to be scared of you, Taeyong, I think you like when they respect you.” Even that comment had a tingle running down his spine, something that left the tips of his ears tinging pink as he ducked his head down, but the other was quick to tilt his face up and meet his gaze. “Don’t hide from me.”

Taeyong swallowed thickly but he didn’t look away. “That night at the ball was so overwhelming, but I had nobles treating me like an equal — I had royalty asking my opinion on wine like somehow I was important.”

“You are,” Taemin purred with such conviction that he couldn’t help but listen, eyelids fluttering as those fingers trailed over his jaw then up to his cheekbone, thumb swiping over his lower lip as the other leisurely admired him. It felt like sitting across from a lion and waiting for it to pounce, except there was no fear of being eaten, at least not in a way that would be unpleasant. “You deserve to be treated like a king.” His words were barely above a whisper and seemed to drip over his skin like honey as Taemin drifted closer in that way you could never truly focus on, lips trailing over his shoulder and over his throat in a motion that barely grazed the skin. Taeyong came alive under his touch; every nerve stood on end like vying to meet the other, even the air around him seemingly to tingle with anticipation, yet just as their lips brushed he set a hand on the other’s chest and stopped him from leaning in completely.

“That sounds an awful lot like sedition, hyung,” he breathed out, perhaps emboldened by Taemin’s words, his own eyes lidded. Said male chuckled, the noise rolling over him as his eyes transformed into those otherworldly hues he so admired and stared him down.

“Jonginie may be king,” the other drawled, “but I’m his god.” Somehow, Taeyong didn’t doubt it. If anyone else had ever uttered such words it would’ve sounded ridiculous and conceited, but coming from Taemin it sounded more like an admission, one completely believable. Mark had admitted when they’d first reconnected that they never would’ve been here without Taemin, that he’d been the one to truly give them purpose and encourage him to retake the home they missed so much — that he’d been the one to give them the means. At the time he’d asked what the elder would get out of it, but Mark hadn’t answered.

“Mark told me that when you first met, you said ‘you’ll do’. What did you mean by that, your grace?” Taeyong teased, letting his fingers dance up over the other’s chest to his collarbone as he spoke, keeping his eyes on Taemin.

“They were nothing but a means to an end, at first.” Taemin admitted it so blatantly in a way that would seem crude from anyone else, thought Taeyong had come to appreciate his honesty. “I’m older than I seem, you know? Biologically I’m probably younger than Baekhyun, but I’ve been around for . . .” he laughed. “I lost track a while ago, it seem. I’ve seen kings rise and fall, seen things you can only dream of, yet it was never fulfilling, no matter my part in any of it. I saw them across the tavern and I felt their ambition, their spark, and I thought to myself, ‘you know, maybe they’ll entertain me for a while’.”

“But you fell in love,” Taeyong murmured, lips twitching into a soft smile. 

“I’ve never been human — I don’t know if I’m capable of feeling love,” Taemin answered quietly and covered the hand with his own, drawing it up to his lips and pressing kisses over his knuckles before moving to his wrist, shifting further up his arm and maintaining his gaze the whole time. “Does that bother you?”

“Does that bother _you_?” Taeyong countered softly. It made Taemin pause in his motions and just stare for a minute, unblinking, before he hid one of those rare little smiles against his shoulder. “What?”

“You never fail to surprise me, is all. I suppose if I thought about it for long enough, probably — sometimes I wonder if I’m missing something, if there’s more I’ll never be able to give.” The younger pulled back just enough to see Taemin’s face, but he didn’t seem upset; even so he found himself leaning in, stealing a drawn out, tender kiss.

“There isn’t one way to love, hyung, no two people do it the same — if it really bothers you, I think you do, in your own way. Love is . . . it’s not a singular feeling, it’s a want to be around someone, to protect them, to give them the whole world no matter how improbable. It’s knowing you couldn’t live the same without them.”

—

Baekhyun stared down the edge of another blade, tongue trapped between his lips and one eye squeezed shut as he took aim at the dummy he had propped up perhaps fifteen feet away, already littered with plenty of the small, balanced knives he’d been favouring today. He inhaled, held it for a second, and then just as he let go arms wrapped around his waist and broke his concentration. It still landed with a heavy _thunk!_ in the arm of the dummy, but it wasn’t a bullseye like he would’ve liked. 

Rather than being angry he just chuckled, looking down at the hands on his stomach to see who had interrupted him; dainty, slender fingers free of jewellery. Taeyong. “Don’t they say not to interrupt a master at work?” He hummed as he turned around, but there was a smile dancing on his lips regardless. Even that wasn’t enough to mask the tenseness in his body as he took in the other’s appearance, namely that beautiful smile he’d come to adore so much.

“Good thing you’re not a master,” the other teased right back, causing Baekhyun to let out a small laugh as he grabbed the other in his arms, swinging him around a little before they finally came to a stop, both of them smiling. “I came to see how you were.” Ah. Taeyong had always been so perceptive, so honestly he should’ve just expected this, especially given the rather public disagreement between Jongin and himself this morning.

“I’m fine,” he reassured the younger, pulling away just so he could walk back over and grab his knives out, one by one. He was fine, truly, just worried, but then again they all were. Jongin had never been so unhinged before and whilst he knew it was likely the result of a lot of things including the weight of his new position, that’s why they were here, to hold him up and keep him in line like they always had, to help carry the burden like they’d sworn to each other. He was so stupid, sometimes. “Want another lesson, kiddo?”

“You know I’m only a few years younger, right? I’m the same age as Mark and Lucas.”

“Yeah, and Mark is still a baby too,” Baekhyun snorted, urging the other closer and positioning him so he was standing in front of him. “You’re getting pretty good with daggers, Taeyong. You should be proud of yourself.” When the boy in question opened his mouth to protest he just tickled his sides. “Listen to me, hyung knows best. I don’t give praise when it’s not earned. Now, let me show you how to throw a knife.”

It was completely innocent, really. He was rather focused on teaching as he guided Taeyong how to hold the blade in his hand and find the balance of it, how to stand and how to choose his target, hands on with each movement and pressed close to his back — he was a diligent teacher. “Breathe in,” he murmured close to his ear, staring down the blade with him. “Now throw.” When he saw Taeyong close his eyes at the last second, perhaps for fear of seeing the result, he definitely expected the blade to fly off to the side and hit a wall instead, but instead it was his turn to stare in surprise as it landed, well, on the dummy. Not where he’d been aiming, but still close enough. Baekhyun let out a disbelieving huff. “You’ve done this before.”

“I— what, no,” Taeyong laughed as he opened his eyes and followed his gaze to the blade, seemingly just as surprised by the fact he’d actually managed to hit a fairly good spot. “I just . . . sometimes it feels like I can feeling _everything_ these days, like my body knows what to do before I do.”

“It’s not fair if you use magic,” Baekhyun laughed, but Taeyong ducked his head down a little at that.

“I didn’t, I promise, at least I don’t think I did, I just—“

“I was teasing you, Yongie,” he was quick to reassure. “You’re just always full of surprises. You did great.” He didn’t miss the way that the younger always lit up a little at the praise, and it wasn’t sad like it used to be, just so incredibly endearing. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm, I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” Taeyong’s throat bobbed a little and he smiled, stepping forward until he was invading his space. “Close your eyes for hyung.” It was adorable how nervous he seemed, but that anticipation was so incredibly obvious and it was something that Baekhyun found absolutely exhilarating; maybe it was mean but he drew it out a little and waited till Taeyong’s eyes were closed and he was trying not to squirm before he leaned in to press their lips together, hands spanning over the other’s waist. He couldn’t even begin to express how long he’d been waiting to do that, maybe since the first day the younger had come to him for lessons.

Taeyong seemed to melt into his touch instantly. A breathy little noise fell from his lips as his hands came up to tangle fingers gently in his hair, leaning in closer like he couldn’t get enough, and who was Baekhyun to say no? He had no qualms with deepening the kiss and sliding their lips together with practiced ease, nipping and sucking at plush skin before he dipped his tongue inside; it was rather obvious that the other didn’t have much experience with this, it was a little bit too wet and his tongue was sort of in the way, but he seemed to be a quick learner, repeating each little trick Baekhyun showcased in a way that shouldn’t have been as cute as it was. 

Baekhyun felt like he couldn’t be blamed for the fact that he got hard rather quickly, and honestly he was so used to not having to hide it that he had no qualms with pressing their hips together and letting the other feel just what he was doing to him. The little noise it brought forth from Taeyong was something he could only describe as _needy_ and he’d be damned if that didn’t do a whole lot of everything for him. “You don’t make it easy to keep my hands to myself,” Baekhyun groaned, forcing himself to pull away a little, but to his surprise it was Taeyong who tugged him back in, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy as he messily pressed their lips together again.

“Didn’t you say I deserve a reward, hyung?”

“My my, aren’t you getting bold?” he tried to joke, but he already sounded a little breathless and strained as the younger. “What got you so worked up?” It was teasing, but the way Taeyong half whined just proved that he’d hit the nail on the head, and hell, wasn’t that something to consider?

“Taemin.” Okay, that had Baekhyun laughing a little, but he’d be damned if he didn’t understand now. Taemin had a way of making you want things you’d never even dreamed you’d want in the first place, of being rather dangerous in the way he could invoke desire so easily — it wasn’t even about his magic, because other than that one time he’d actually used his magic on them and they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other for a whole day he’d never needed to use it on them. Taemin’s charm wasn’t his magic, it was _him._ The man was just pure sexual energy. It made him feel bad for Taeyong, made him cave.

“Poor baby,” Baekhyun half cooed, voice dipping an octave as they walked them back a few steps until they were more hidden from anyone on the off chance that someone walked by. Gods, the things he wanted to do to him, the way he wanted to wreck him. Part of him wanted nothing more than to get his mouth on the other, but he was willing to bet that this was probably Taeyong’s first sexual encounter with another person if the way he was still so nervous about kissing was anything to go by. What an honour, huh? He’d make it good for him. “Want hyung to make it better?” That got him a little nod, hands clinging in his hair as he trailed kisses and soft bites down the other’s jaw, savouring every little hitch of breath it caused him.

Baekhyun was tempted to shove a hand down his pants, get him off, but probably too much right off the bat — instead he brought one thigh forward to grind between Taeyong’s, humming at the little moan he managed to pull forth. “It’s okay, you can ride me,” he murmured against his throat, other hand on his waist to guide him back and forth a few times before Taeyong seemed to get the hint and start to move by himself. “Good?”

“ _Hyung-ah_ ,” was all he got in response, hips stuttering a little. Gods, they were going to eat him alive.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Taeyongie,” he hummed, “just take what you need.” Baekhyun hadn’t expected to take long, and it didn’t; Taemin must’ve really done a number on the younger earlier, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to rub it in his face later just to get a rise out of him. It was probably only two or so minutes before Taeyong was gasping and holding onto him, face pressing into his own shoulder and practically mewling as his hips canted forward a few times before coming to a stop. “That’s it,” Baekhyun praised and rubbed his hand over his side, pressing a few more little kisses to the skin of his throat before pulling back just enough to get a peak at a pink face and dazed expression. Hell. “You good, cutie?” Taeyong just nodded, fingers still idly tangled in his hair, and he couldn’t help but to chuckle. Baekhyun took his time carefully untangling them and stealing a few innocent little pecks before he walked the younger back to his room. He didn’t seem _too_ embarrassed, just a little shy, especially in the way he’d asked another kiss before Baekhyun had left and _thanked_ him. 

Baekhyun couldn’t say he’d never had someone thank him for an orgasm, but usually it didn’t seem so innocent.

It was Ten that he passed first in the hall after he left the other to clean up, so it was Ten he dragged towards his own room, eyes dark and filled with promise as the door closed behind them. “What’s got you so worked up, hyung?” How fitting, right?

“Taeyong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /When he woke up, Jongin seemed to be awake, sitting at the edge of the bed like he had been before they’d laid down with his head hung low, shoulders tense. Ten thought nothing of it and stretched out among the rugs for a little bit before sitting up and leaning over like he’d done earlier, draping himself over the elder’s back with a lazy smile. “What are you doing up, swee—“
> 
> Ten didn’t get to finish his sentence./
> 
> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	21. Part 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While everyone struggles to unravel what they're up against, things change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logically I know missing one day of posting is nothing and that I shouldn't stress but I'm so used to updating every day that it feels so weird-
> 
> I've been really busy the last week so I haven't been able to write a chapter everyday like I was lmao and I've been running out of pre-written chapters. I hope you all enjoy this one!
> 
> Also, I opened a twitter (@peachxi1) where I'll be posting special excerpts of alw, moodboards and visuals for character + lots of other content and writing stuff. If you're interested feel free to chuck me a follow :) 
> 
> is this cliche? maybe, but i have,,, plans lmao

“We have to be missing something,” Taeyong murmured as he poured over yet another book in the west tower, back hunched a little and cheek propped on one hand as he read over the same line for the third time, other hand idly flickering through the pages of the thick tome in his lap. They’d been trying to find some sort of link for days to figure out what they were dealing with. They still had no idea who’d ambushed them or what they wanted other than Jongin’s death, and with each day that passed Jongin was just getting worse — it was the the point where each night one of them would be with him until they were sure he was asleep, and when the other had tried to sneak away at one point Taemin had quite literally threatened him. 

He still wouldn’t tell them _why_ he was so terrified to sleep, but they couldn’t deny things had been odd. Only the other night Lucas had been looking rather haggard after his night with the other,claiming that he’d barely slept after one particular incident where he’d woken up to Jongin standing by the bed and just staring at him. By all means, the draught that Taeyong was giving him should’ve kept him asleep; they figured he must’ve been sleep walking but Lucas had insisted he seemed awake, just . . . not himself.

Lucas had been terrified, apparently, as he’d coaxed him back into bed with the elder staring at him in a way he said he couldn’t describe. Empty.

“What about the pouch?” Ten mumbled, laying on his back a few feet away and surrounded by books, one levitating above his face so he could read — a few months ago he would’ve been shocked to see such a thing, but now Taeyong had become accustomed to it, especially since his own abilities seemed to be slowly making themselves known. Nothing overly spectacular yet, but he’d been ridiculously thrilled when he’d met with Yixing yesterday and he’d realised he had an influence over life. All he’d been able to do was open a flower bud and make it bloom, but gods, it was more than he’d ever been able to do consciously and it’d had him grinning from ear to ear for hours.

“Do you know what was in it? It’s a long shot, but maybe it’ll mean _something_ ,” the other mumbled, and Taeyong looked up from his book to stare at the other and consider it. It wasn’t like he’d gotten the greatest look at what was inside, but he could recall what it’d looked like.

“I don’t know what most of it was, it wasn’t plants or ingredients I’ve ever seen,” he admitted quietly. “There was mandrake, celandine, but I can’t identify much else, maybe foreign, but it felt like they held power . . .” Taeyong trailed off with a furrow between his brows, earning a sigh from his companion. “Oh, blackthorn. Blossoms and bark.” When his words didn’t garner a response he glanced back over to where Ten was now sitting up and staring with a look he couldn’t quite place.

“Blackthorn?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s _fae_ magic, Yong,” Ten accentuated, moving across the floor to shuffle through the pile for a few older looking books they hadn’t even thought to touch before urging him in closer. Taeyong followed without question and folded his legs as he brushed the dust off one of the covers, fingers tracing over embossed golden sigils that were worn and faded but still caused the hair on his arms to stand on end. He didn’t know what they were, couldn’t read them, but they . . . he felt like he should. Fae magic.

“I thought you said fae magic is light magic?” He asked with obvious confusion.

“No, I said I wouldn’t generalise magic as good or bad — my magic may come from demons, but for the most part it could be considered light magic, I don’t specialise in curses or anything that heavy. Magic is only as _good_ as the wielder and their intentions,” Ten corrected as he pulled one of them open, eyes flitting between illustrations and text that Taeyong certainly couldn’t read before he finally spread the book open completely and pointed to one particular one in general. The pouch depicted was rather similar to the one he’d found in the bottom of that well. 

“It’s someone like me?” Taeyong breathed out, voice barely even audible as he looked over the pictures of the ingredients, and hell, some of them were definitely plants he’d never seen, ones that to his knowledge didn’t even exist — not in this realm, at least. He wasn’t quite sure how that made him feel. 

“I mean, they had to be to make this, but the power behind it, the _intent_ . . . they’d have to be incredibly strong. This is true fae magic, the sort that hasn’t been seen for hundreds of years.” A pause before Ten looked at him. “How did you know to burn it?”

“I . . . when I touched it, it felt like it tried to swallow me alive — it was so dark, Ten, and I remembered what you said about how fire is always used for purification. I knew taking it apart wouldn’t work.”

“You’re always so smart,” Ten murmured and reached out to brush some of his hair back, bracelets clinking before he drew him forward into a tender little kiss, lips curling in the process. “My little prodigy, hm?” Taeyong let out that nervous little giggle that’d always been a bad habit for him but he melted into it regardless, one hand settled on the other’s chest as they exchanged a few rather innocent kisses before finally breaking apart. “You know, the only other person we know with fae blood is—“

“Yixing, I know,” Taeyong finished softly, but he shook his head. “It’s not him, I’d be able to feel it, and besides he’s . . . he’s strong, but he’s not _that_ strong.”

“And he’s too nice,” Ten sighed, like he wished he wasn’t. “How’d it go yesterday?”

“Good. It was a little awkward at first but I feel like I’ve known him forever, he was so kind and patient explaining everything to me. There’s still so much I don’t know, but it’s a start,” he said decisively, looking back at the book between them. His fingers reached down to graze over a few of the pages again before he shook his head and closed it. “I don’t care if this person is like me — we’re going to find them, and they’ll pay for what they did.” When Ten didn’t immediately answer he glanced back up but the other was just staring with barely veiled lust, leaning back on one hand with a smirk plastered on his lips. “What?”

“Gets me all hot and bothered when you get so intense,” Ten admitted without any shame despite the fact he didn’t make any move to come forward. 

“Do you . . .”

“What, Yongie?” Taeyong looked away and flushed a little. His, uh, incident with Baekhyun the other day hadn’t been planned by any means and he’d surprised even himself, but it felt like a sort of damn had been broken, because all those wants felt like they were finally within his reach — all he’d need to do was open his mouth, probably. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, “I was just wondering if you could show me how to change my hair?”

“I thought you liked the white now?” Ten asked, looking almost concerned, but Taeyong just smiled.

“Oh, I do, but I thought . . . well, I don’t want to go back to black, but maybe I could try something else, like you? You said it was a fairly easy enchantment.” The excitement on Ten’s face alone was worth asking.

“Oh, babe, we’re going to have _so_ much fun.”

—

Ten would say it’d been a fairly eventful day, honestly. For one, he’d been so close to begging Taeyong to touch him when they’d been doing their research in the tower, and in the end he hadn’t quite been able to keep his hands to himself. The enchantment to change Taeyong’s hair had been fairly easy, and this time rather than just demonstrating he’d been teaching him how to do it himself, how to channel that energy and focus on his appearance in the hopes that he’d be able to do it himself now that he seemed to be fully recovered. It still felt like maybe that power was still restrained in some way, but it was hard to focus on when he’d seen the unadulterated joy on the other’s face as he’d stared in the mirror and his hair had transformed. Not only that, but the surge of _energy_ that was so distinctly Taeyong.

He’d heard that it was incredibly intense for Taemin given the differences in their power, but he’d never understood it to this degree until now.

He’d barely given Taeyong a second to admire his new baby pink locks before he’d dragged him in to a downright filthy kiss and tangled their bodies together as he’d lead him back towards one of the tables. “You’re intoxicating,” he’d growled lightly as Taeyong settled between his thighs and returned the kiss in earnest, nipping and sucking in a way _he_ certainly hadn’t taught him. “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when you look like this, huh?”

“Don’t.” It was the last thing he’d expected to hear but he’d be damned if it didn’t made his cock throb as he rolled their hips together, staring up into dilated pupils and taking in Taeyong’s flustered yet obviously enthusiastic response. Well then. 

“You wanna touch me?” Ten hummed in a lower register than usual, a spark of mischief in his gaze as he ran hands down Taeyong’s chest, noticing the way the other shivered and nodded like he wanted nothing more. “You’re such a _good boy,_ Yongie.” That seemed to be the jackpot; to be honest he’d been planning to maybe jack the other off and see if he could get the same in return, something easy and relatively tame, but before he could even say anything else Taeyong was dropping down to his knees with a thud and nuzzling against his inner thigh like he’d done this a million times before, those doe eyes staring up at him with such an earnest desire to please. Bingo. Ten found it far too fitting that the other wanted to be praised like this, and he was far too happy to comply.

“Can I?” He asked, hands on Ten’s thighs as he trailed lips over the seem of his pants. “Please, Ten? Want to try.” How could Ten possibly say no when he was asking so sweetly? He’d already taught Taeyong so much in their time together and he had no problem whatsoever being his mentor in this, too. It wouldn’t be the first time, and besides, he could only imagine how gorgeous the other was going to look when he was peering up at him through those thick lashes. 

“Go for it, baby.” It was evident that despite all his bravado and want that Taeyong was not only inexperienced but a little nervous too and Ten wanted to eliminate as much of that as he could — he focused on carding his fingers through soft pink strands as the other so carefully undid his pants, throat bobbing when they were pulled down his thighs just enough to let his erection spring free. He wasn’t the most sizeable of their companions but was still a daunting appearance to someone who’d likely never touched a dick other than their own. “Take your time, mm? You can’t do much wrong as long as you cover your teeth, Yongie. You’ll do great,” Ten cooed softly, guiding the other to look at him before he watched as Taeyong tentatively darted his tongue out to lap over the slit. He instantly hissed, but his hips didn’t move an inch. “Tease,” he mumbled, but that seemed to only encourage the other.

Taeyong swirled his tongue around the head in a way that seemed almost coy before letting out a low hum and carefully sealing his lips around the tip, almost like he was testing the weight a little; his eyes fluttered closed after that like he was focusing on the sensations as he hollowed his cheeks a bit and bobbed his head down. Only a few centimetres, certainly not even half way, but the visual alone was enough to have Ten enraptured. Gods, they were in for a wild ride.

“Like that,” he managed breathlessly. Ten leant back and balanced his weight on one hand, the other still affectionately brushing through the younger’s hair as he worked his way down a little and got used to the sensations before building a bit more of a rhythm. It was by no means the best head he’d ever had in his life, but Ten felt like he was falling apart far too quickly, a mix of far too many things for him to name. The longer it went on the more he unravelled and the more Taeyong seemed to build his confidence. He still didn’t have much of a technique, but gods, that tongue was absolutely wicked, moving even as his head bobbed up and down, taking just enough to have his thighs shaking a little. “You sure you haven’t been practicing?” He joked, words trailing into a broken moan.

He could’ve whined when Taeyong pulled off, breathing a little heavily and lips swollen as he looked up at him; he had one hand curled around the base of his cock, but most of his length was resting against the other’s flushed cheek, viscous liquid falling from the tip and smearing against his skin. “No, just you, hyung.” Ten cursed out loud at that and his fingers tightened their grip in his hair. 

“You’re a natural, then,” Ten breathed out — he was a little flushed himself, the hairs around his face clinging more to his skin and chest falling heavier than usual as he guided Taeyong back to where he wanted him and instantly threw his head back. “I’m close,” he at least had the sense to warn, even though the other didn’t seem to care as he doubled down his efforts, noisily slurping in a way that was positively lewd.

Ten still pulled the other back lightly by his hair as that wave crested and instead opted to stroke himself through his orgasm as he came, stifling cries in his own shoulder as white ropes spilled over the other’s cheek and mouth. The sight of that alone was enough to have him whimpering as his waning erection gave a desperate twitch. He wasn’t a teenager, he was not going to go again, no matter how valiantly his body wanted to in the moment. “Come here,” he urged as he helped the other up to his feet and instantly shoved a hand down his pants without any preamble, using the one with the least rings to minimise any accidents as he curled his fingers around the other’s cock and rather quickly started stroking, plastering their bodies together. Maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially given Taeyong still had cum on his face, but it was . . . well, it just felt right.

Taeyong spilled in his hand within a minute, falling against him a little and whining in a way that was so incredibly cute as he stroked a hand through his hair, cooing how good he’d done and how good he’d made him feel. They stayed there like that for a second and just tried to catch their breath; eventually Ten leaned back just enough to withdraw his hand and raise it to his lips without any hesitation to lick away the mess. The younger had just stared with an awestruck expression as Ten wiped the mess off his face, too, but before Ten could do anything he was leaning forward to swipe his tongue over one coated digit, almost like he’d done it without thinking.

Ten found himself wheezing a little at the way the other wrinkled his nose. “You get used it,” he reassured, wiping the rest on his pants with little care and just watching as Taeyong seemed to come back to his senses to a little and do up his own pants. He sat there for a few moments longer before lacing his own. When their gazes finally met again there was silence before they both started laughing and Ten just rolled his eyes before drawing the other in close and burying his face in his shoulder to bit playfully. “Good, hmm?”

“So good,” Taeyong admitted as he cuddled him back. Now Ten understood why Baekhyun had been so worked up the other day.

They’d stayed up there and continued to try to narrow down their search for a while all the while exchanging little glances and smiles, hands often seeing each other out, but eventually they had headed down to share dinner with everyone; in a way Ten supposed it was probably obvious, if just because they both had such an obvious glow as they ate and talked amongst themselves. After dinner they’d parted ways, though. “Jongin duty,” he’d hummed playfully as he linked his hand with the man in question and lead him back to his own room for the night to sleep. This was his second time since they’d started and he wasn’t too worried if just for the fact that the first night had gone well — the only unsettling part had been the way that Jongin hadn’t moved at all in the night, even to turn over or scratch or anything. He’d always been the sort to steal blankets and reach out in his sleep.

“I hate that you’re all babysitting me,” Jongin admitted as they settled down into bed, dressed in nothing but his undergarments and his hair falling down into his face a little where he sat with his feet still on the floor. Ten just draped himself over the older’s back and pressed a few tender kisses to his shoulder as his hand rubbed over his back. 

“We love you, Jongin, we’re just looking out for you. Now drink your medicine,” he reassured, sticking close and watching to make sure he drunk every last sip before stealing a very chaste kiss and guiding him back into the bed to lay down; tonight he settled on his back and got Jongin to rest his head on his chest so he could play with his hair like the other had always enjoyed as they drifted off, nuzzling into the top of his head. “I’m here, love. I’m not going anywhere,” Ten murmured as he watched the other finally fall asleep, his own eyes half lidded before he too gave in and let himself start dreaming.

When he woke up, Jongin seemed to be awake, sitting at the edge of the bed like he had been before they’d laid down with his head hung low, shoulders tense. Ten thought nothing of it and stretched out among the rugs for a little bit before sitting up and leaning over like he’d done earlier, draping himself over the elder’s back with a lazy smile. “What are you doing up, swee—“

Ten didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Suddenly his back was colliding with the far wall and he was crumbling to the ground, the air knocked from his body and leaving him gasping for breathe through teary eyes as he looked back over, confused. He’d never been scared of Jongin before, but the man that stared back at him . . . he didn’t look like Jongin. He had the same face and same body down to every detail, but there was an iciness in his gaze he’d never seen before even when the other got out of hand during a battle, an _emptiness_ that sent icy fear curling in his gut. “Jongin,” he started, quietly, but the man just stared and cocked his head as he struggled to pull himself up off the ground, body aching. He always let his guard down around them, but it’d never come back to bite him in the ass. Not like this

Ten stumbled a little and bit back a cry, the man regarding him for a few more seconds with indifference before walking away and out the door. “Shit,” he cursed, standing up straighter despite the pain and not even bothering to reach for a robe as he stumbled out after him, dressed in nothing more than some rather loose pants; not like Jongin, or whatever this was, was dressed any better.“Jongin,” he tried a bit firmer as he followed him through the halls, not daring to get closer, but he seemed like a man on a mission. 

“Watch out!” He called as another door opened and Mark wandered out, looking like he’d just woken up. Maybe he’d heard the ruckus,. It was only just enough warning for the younger to duck before Jongin threw a fist his way so fast it would’ve been easy to miss. Well, Mark at least looked more awake now, deftly dodging the flurry of blows being thrown his way as he tried to hold his ground. 

“What the hell? Jongin— hey, it’s me,” Mark bit out, but Jongin didn’t stop. 

“Step out of the way,” Ten found himself calling out as he got within a few feet. Mark did, and for a moment it seemed Jongin was going to continue the enslaught, but then he froze, neck rolling a little before he continued down the hall. It . . . it was like he was searching for something, attacking anything that stood in his way without any hesitation. _Ten had no idea_ _what the actual fuck was going on._ “Just . . . let’s follow him,” he wheezed, holding his side.

“What’s going on, Ten. Are you okay?” Mark blurted as they kept a safe distance, an obvious concern in his eyes that was probably in part for both of them, but Ten just shook it off. He’d be fine. No one else came out as they followed Jongin all the way through numerous corridors and rooms, down two flights of stairs even, until they reached . . . well, outside, the largest courtyard that served as the castle gardens actually. He’d heard that they’d been the queen’s — Jongin’s mother’s — a long, long time ago.   


He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find at the end of this wild goose chase, but Taeyong wasn’t it, sitting in the middle of the ground beneath the large Hawthorn tree that grew in the centre, eyes closed as white petals drifted down around him from a tree that was still in full bloom in the midst of winter. It was an eerily beautiful sight, though Ten didn’t have time to admire it as he watched Jongin step forward into the moonlight. Mark moved to open his mouth and warn the younger, but Ten . . . Ten stopped him. Call it a hunch, he supposed.

Jongin stopped maybe five feet away and just stared, his shoulders seeming to shake a little before relaxing a bit. “Who . . . it’s you, isn’t it?” He didn’t sound angry or even upset, just curious, like a child that lacked much emotion. They watched as Taeyong’s eyes flickered open and came to rest on the man in front of him, obviously rather surprised by the sudden appearance and confused by the question. He laughed quietly and pushed himself up from the mess of petals. 

“What do you mean, Jongin? It’s me, Taeyong,” he chuckled, walking over to stand in front of the other and reaching out to touch his chest. Ten could see him frown. “You’re so cold, Jongin — is everything alright?”

“Jongin,” he repeated, almost considering as he stared down at the hand on his chest.

“C’mon, this isn’t funny, did Baekhyun put you up to this?” He could see that Taeyong was starting to look a little unsure and nervous as he slid his hand up, passing where Jongin’s heart would lay, but then it froze and he saw the colour drain from his face. “Jongin?”

“Jongin? Oh, right, that’s _him_.” The voice sounded so _amused_ by the revelation, but it wasn’t a happy noise. 

“I don’t—“

Beside him he heard a branch crunch under Mark’s foot, and Ten felt like the world stopped for a second as that face whipped around, utterly devoid of the man who should’ve been there as he stalked forward. None of them had time to react before he had Mark in the air by his throat. 

“Jongin!” Taeyong yelled as he rushed forward, and when Ten reached out he was thrown backwards again with the other’s free hand, black spots almost blurring his vision as he hit the ground. Jongin looked to Taeyong, but he didn’t let go, just squeezed tighter as Mark kicked and gasped for air, nails digging into his wrist. “Put him down!” Before Ten lost consciousness completely he watched as Mark was dropped without hesitation, the man wearing Jongin’s face falling down into a kneel with his head bowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“How are you feeling?”
> 
> “Like I’m a monster,” Jongin laughed bitterly, stifling the noise in his hair, but Lucas pulled away just enough so that he could turn around and get a better look at the other, brows furrowed.
> 
> “Hyung, you can’t blame yourse—“
> 
> “No, it’s— it’s my body, my hands that hurt them, and I know it was worse than they said. How can it not be my fault?” Jongin insisted even as Lucas’s hands came up to cup his cheeks. Lucas thought he hid his own pain well, but he could see the moment that the he recognised it, could see the guilt that blossomed on his face as he realised the implications of his words./
> 
> as always I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!~


	22. Part 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All magic comes with a price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c;
> 
> also, to anyone who's been following this story for a while, I might not be able to update as often I was (I still don't know how I was writing so much each day lmao) just because uni starts very soon and I have a lot on my plate. That being said, I think it'll still be updated rather regularly? Like every few days at most, hopefully, because I'm still musing hella hard.
> 
> If this is cliche I'm sorry but-
> 
> also hinting at more backstory huehue

The man that was kneeling before Taeyong looked just like Jongin, but it was like . . . like a stranger inhabiting his body. A stranger who’d hurt Ten and Mark, who’d seemed like he was going to squeeze the life right out of the latter until he’d spoken up; perhaps the most peculiar part was that _not-Jongin had listened to him_. Taeyong was so utterly confused, honestly a little frightened, frozen in place before he finally got himself moving just enough to edge towards where Mark was spluttering and pulling himself up to his feet, refusing to take his eyes off the man kneeling a few feet away.

He almost got to Mark before those eyes that should’ve been so familiar looked up, the cool, considering eyes of a predator. The pink haired male swallowed thickly, heart hammering like a rabbit staring down a fox as he waited, but the man just stared, ignoring the way that Mark scrambled across the ground to where Ten was seemingly unconscious and spread out awkwardly in the shape he’d fallen. Gods, he hoped he was okay. He had to be. He’d never seen the elder look so weak and, well, lifeless.

“What are you doing?” Taeyong couldn’t help but sob, fingers growing numb as the wind seemed to pick up around them. “Why would you do that, I don’t— who are you?” He demanded even through blurry eyes, eyes averting for just a second as Ten seemed to stir and Mark helped him up, shouldering most of his weight and giving him a rather helpless look, like he was going to come forward, but he hoped the other could read minds. For some reason, not-Jongin wasn’t hurting him. It was only a second, but it was enough for the other to push up and stand in front of him, too close for comfort.

“You don’t want me to get rid of them?”

“Of course not, they’re our friends,” Taeyong hissed, taking a step back as he Mark reluctantly lead Ten over to a safer spot, but the commotion out here seemed to have been enough to stir some of their companions. It was Taemin who walked out into the light, looking like he’d just been stirred from a deep sleep, but Taeyong held up a hand to stop him from approaching. “Ten’s hurt.”

“I’m fine,” said male managed, voice hoarse even as he held his ribs, but Mark shut him up quickly.

“He’s not, hyung.” Mark sounded as scared as Taeyong felt.

“You didn’t answer my question, who are you?” Taeyong asked, voice thick as not-Jongin just glanced between them. Thankfully he didn’t try to attack anyone even if he seemed rather on edge. The way he shrugged his shoulders in a universal I-don’t-know wasn’t very reassuring and it certainly didn’t do anything to explain what the hell was actually going on.

“I’m the bit that broke off when you shoved his soul back into his corpse,” not-Jongin finally answered and it made Taeyong’s blood run cold. He could feel the silence that settled in the air, the tension. Knowing it was so different from hearing it spoken aloud, especially in front of Ten and Mark who, until now, certainly hadn’t known that Jongin had really died, nor that he’d somehow managed to bring him back. He’d feared that Jongin’s state lately had been a result of what he’d done and still didn’t quite understand, but it seemed that his deepest fears had come true.

“Is that why you haven’t tried to kill me yet?” Not-Jongin cocked his head and stepped closer, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Taemin tense, obviously rather out of his depth, and that was what really reinforced the gravity of this situation because there wasn’t much that could disarm the other like this.

“Why would I try to kill you, Taeyong? You made me — I’m here to serve _you_.”

“I don’t want you to serve me, I want you to go away. Give Jongin back,” he found himself demanding as he stepped forward, almost toe to toe with the taller male, and for the first time he saw a genuine emotion. Or at least the hints of one. The smirk that curled across not-Jongin’s face was so . . . so menacing, in a way he couldn’t explain, so unlike the man he knew. 

“I was content being him, letting him use me as a mask when he had to get his hands dirty; it’s not my fault you fucked up and don’t know how to put me back. But,” he drawled, leaning down a little, “I have to say, I think I quite like living.”

“He has no pulse,” Taemin suddenly spoke up from behind them, but before not-Jongin could even attempt to throw a hit the elder had his arm twisted behind his back, forcing his torso down a little and staring with one of those unreadable masks. “He’s cold. Like—“

“A corpse,” Taeyong finished. He had the distinct feeling he was going to be sick. 

“Insensitive,” not-Jongin gritted out.

“Hyung, I did this, I—“

“Taeyong,” Taemin murmured, softer, and when their eyes met there was a warmth there. “Don’t blame yourself for this, you couldn’t have known. I didn’t even suspect it was a possibility, I thought he was plagued by nightmares of the figurative sense. Not a literal one.”

“Yong, we need to get Ten somewhere so you can take a look, I think his ribs are broken.” Taeyong looked over and furrowed his brows, torn between what he was supposed to do, but Taemin made it clear by keeping his grip and grabbing their current problem by the scruff of his neck.

“If I tell you to obey Taemin, will you?” He asked, watching the way his gaze seemed to darken, jaw ticking like the mere thought pissed him off.

“I don’t know, will I?” Taeyong took a moment to consider the risk, but truthfully even if the other didn’t then Taemin was more than capable of dealing with him even like this — he’d be fine. Hopefully. He had a feeling that Ten may need him more right now, and hell, he could see the bruises forming on Mark’s throat already.

“Yeah, you will,” the pink haired male said decisively, setting his shoulders. “Because it’ll make me happy.”

Not-Jongin didn’t seem happy about it, but he gave a terse nod. Taeyong tried not to focus on the way he could feel eyes burning into his back as he walked away.

—

“What happened?” Taeyong asked as he watched Ten down a cup of bitter, frothy liquid, nose screwing up at the unpleasant taste even if he didn’t verbally complain. He’d already carefully peeled the other’s shirt off and set it to the side so that he could get a better look at the heavy bruising that was already blossoming over his skin in menacing shades of black and purple, but he hadn’t dared touch until he had something in the other to try and ease the pain. Mark was sitting only a few feet away in a chair and nursing his own drink, one to hopefully help him be able to talk without it feeling like his throat was on fire. Not-Jongin had certainly done a number on them both.

“He fell asleep fine and I was still half asleep when I noticed he was sitting up, so I reached out to ask what was wrong and he just . . .” the elder trailed off, closing his eyes as Taeyong ever so carefully pressed and prodded, trying to be as gentle as he possibly could. It was hard not to apologise every time he heard the other wince. “It didn’t even seem like he didn’t recognise me, per se, he just didn’t care,” Ten mumbled. “We followed him and he, well, he found you.” There was a pause, and then he could feel the other watching him. “Is it true, what he said?”

“You’ve definitely got some broken ribs,” the pink haired male mumbled under his breath, brows knitted together as he contemplated his options — he could mix up some more medicine, bandage him up and let it heal naturally which would be painful and inconvenient, or he could _try_ to do what Yixing had tried to teach him; admittedly that’d only been a prick of his finger rather than broken bones, but it seemed to be worth at least trying. This was his fault and he wanted to fix it. Had to so he could keep it together.

“ _Taeyong_."

“What do you want me to say, Ten?” He breathed out, chest aching as he guided the other to lay down ever so carefully, a hand set on his torso. “Yes? That I felt the moment he died? That I couldn’t protect him like you could’ve? That I did this, whatever the hell this is, that I fucked up?”

“We just want the truth,” Mark murmured from beside them, voice hoarse and a sort of visible defeat in his eyes, an exhaustion. It was early hours of the morning, after all. 

“The truth is I still don’t know what really happened,” Taeyong admitted, turning his gaze back to mottled bruises and swallowing thickly. He inhaled deeply like he’d been instructed and let his eyes flutter closed, muscles relaxing as he tried to draw forth on that warmth that always seemed to burn inside him, something he’d come to associate with his magic — he imagined drawing it forward slowly, sweetly, coaxing it up to the surface so that he could direct it towards a purpose, to _his_ purpose.

“All I know is that he died for a few moments, and that somehow I managed to reverse it — I didn’t know what I was doing. Something went wrong. Taemin said his soul was troubled, I suppose now we know why if he was being honest with what he said.”

“Kai,” he heard Mark mumble. “He said he was content being the mask that Jongin wore when he got his hands dirty — well, he went by Kai to the world before we came back here. If any part of him was going to splinter when his soul was put back into his body, it makes sense that it’d be a part that he had trouble associating with himself. A piece he tried to bury.”

“A different him,” Taeyong sort of concluded, eyes fluttering back open as a soft glow started to emanate from his palm, and he could hear the way Ten’s breath hitch — no doubt surprised, but gods, so was Taeyong. He hadn’t actually been sure that he’d be able to do it yet even now he could feel his magic like an extension of his body reaching out and starting to heal, to piece bones back together and draw out that pain. 

Kai, huh?

“You’re doing magic,” Ten breathed out, eyes wide and focused on his hand with a sort of awe when Taeyong glanced up to meet his gaze, and he managed a small, tired smile. It was already starting to take a little bit of a toll, but everyone had warned him that magic was like a muscle; the more he used it the easier it’d become.

“Just a little.” Taeyong wished he could’ve gone longer, yet after only a minute he was already starting to get a little lightheaded, shoulders tense as that light began to flicker no matter how hard he pushed. It was enough to heal bones, but there was still a considerable amount of bruising there. He supposed at least he could heal that with traditional means. Mark was similar, but he still wanted to do all he could. Ten’s hand reached out to cover his own and draw it away, eyes already half closed as he pressed a small kiss to his palm.

“Don’t push yourself,” the elder chided softly, lips twitching gently, and Taeyong knew what he meant, why he’d said it. Ten was more sensitive than most when it came to the topic of magic and the price you had to pay, even though Taeyong’s magic seemed to function a little differently. He huffed a little but didn’t protest as he pulled a blanket up over the other before kissing his cheek.

“I won’t, I’ll just help Mark—“

“No, I’m fine,” said male interjected, waving him off with a weak smile and already settling better into his new spot on the bed with a pillow wedged under his head. “The medicine is helping, Yong — if you really insist you can try in the morning, when you’re rested too.”

Taeyong wanted to argue, but he couldn’t deny that, well, he was rather tired himself. Not just from being awake nearly all night but also from his attempt at using his magic for something different. He was silent for a few moments before offering a rather reluctantly little nod; he still fussed over Mark for a few moments and made sure he was comfortable before pressing lips to his forehead and pulling away so he could make up a bed for himself at the end of the mattress, laying horizontal and almost like a guard dog in front of the pair as they dozed off. It still took a while for him to follow suite.

—

It was rather tense the next morning at breakfast, and Lucas hadn’t known what the hell was going on at first, had just been startled by Ten’s slight limp and the rather faint bruises around Mark’s neck — until they’d explained what’d happened last night. He . . . it’d been a lot to process. Not just that they seemed to have a rather dangerous alter ego on their hands but also the fact that Jongin _had_ died that day, even briefly, which certainly explained why he’d been acting the way he had.

Something like that would take a toll on anyone, even the strongest.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong had apologised, like somehow any of this was his fault even though he’d been the one who’d quite literally saved Jongin’s life and brought the elder back to them. Before Lucas had even been able to get up from his chair Baekhyun had been leaning over to all but scoop the pink haired male into his arms, pressing a firm kiss to the top of his head.

“Don’t say sorry,” he’d murmured, voice a little thick. It wasn’t often they got to see Baekhyun so openly affected by anything, but then again he supposed hearing someone you loved had died momentarily would do that to you. “You brought him _back_ , Yong — don’t you realise how much that means to me? To all of us?”

“He’s right,” Lucas had chimed in quietly, removing his hand from where he’d been smoothing it through Ten’s hair and reaching out to squeeze his hand. “We’ll get through this, together, like we always do.”

No one had been overly hungry yet they’d all still eaten a decent breakfast at Baekhyun’s insistence, none of them really willing to risk his wrath even if he was in a softer mood; he wasn’t necessarily outright in his punishments, in fact he was more of the sort to subtly make you wish you’d never been born. Lucas could still remember very clearly how his life had been a living hell years ago when he’d accidentally broken one of the other’s fancy throwing knives. It’d taken months and lots of apologies for the torture to stop. That angelic face was always so misleading.

It was understandable the way that everyone had paused a little when two figures joined them at the table — Taemin, who looked as casual as ever, and Jongin who looked absolutely haunted, knuckles a little scraped up. Even so, he looked like himself. They were all silent at first if just because none of them were sure what to say. It was Jongin who broke the silence, looking like he was fighting back tears as he too noticed Mark’s bruising, the way they were all coddling Ten a little. “I’m so, so sorry—“ hell, the elder couldn’t even finish his sentence, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t allowing himself to.

“It’s fine, hyung,” Ten murmured in a soft tone, reaching out to set his hand over Jongin’s and smiling. “It’s a few bruises, nothing I can’t deal with.” Okay, Lucas _knew_ that was a lie, because they’d admitted only fifteen minutes prior that Ten had ended up with three broken ribs and some of the worst bruising that Taeyong had ever seen. Jongin was a strong man. Even the bruises on Mark’s throat were nothing compared to what they’d been before, apparently.

“It’s not _fine,_ Ten, I can’t even remember what happened, Taemin had to be the one to tell me when I woke up.”

“You don’t remember?” Lucas asked quietly, confused. How didn’t you remember something like that? Then again, it made sense he wouldn’t if it’d been this other part of him that’d taken control of his body — Kai, they were saying, just for the sake of having a name for it.

Jongin shook his head. “No. As soon as I fall asleep, it’s just . . . nothing. No dreams.” Well, that explained why he hadn’t wanted to sleep as of late. Lucas knew he wasn’t as smart as Ten, as good at advice as some of their little group, but he . . . well, part of him wished that maybe Jongin would’ve trusted him with his. With any of it. Sometimes he couldn’t help but feel as though those closest to him grew bored of him or frustrated with his personality — it was stupid, he knew what, which was why he’d never broached the issue. 

“We’re all here for you, hyung, this isn’t going to change that.”

/ _“We’re always going to be here for you, Lucas — this doesn’t change that, okay?”_ /

Jongin turned to him after that, just staring for a moment like he was reading him, and then the faintest of smiles curled at full lips, something so incredibly fond that it made Lucas’s chest get all warm and fuzzy. “Thank you.” Lucas just smiled back before leaning back in his seat, focusing on finishing off his toast as everyone continued talking, discussing what they’d learnt and figuring out how the hell they were going to deal with it. Together. He hadn’t been surprised when Jongin had still requested to speak to Mark and Ten alone for a while after breakfast, as so he’d busied himself with menial tasks here and there once everyone else broke off.

Lucas was sort of used to being the odd one out.

Eventually he found himself sitting out alone on one of the many balconies during late afternoon, the sky already beginning to turn golden as he stared out at the city below them, wind ruffling his hair softly. He loved Enese, he really did — then again, he’d loved any place he’d been with the others, and whilst some were definitely better then others (like here) it was undeniable that it was more about those he loved being home than the place. As long as he had them, he’d be happy. Even so, Lucas couldn’t deny there would always be a part of him that missed his birthplace, more so those few good memories from his first years of life, where he’d been too young and naive to ever peak behind the curtains. Weishen House had been . . . well, once upon a time it’d been something good, before ghosts of the past had haunted the halls and turned it into what it’d become. For Lucas, it’d been a prison. 

Lucas found himself reaching up in an act that was almost second nature, tracing over that faint scar at the nape of his neck in the shape of a crescent moon, the skin instantly responding to the touch; any scar he’d ever gained from battle was numb, yet the one he’d been born with felt hypersensitive most of the time,a constant reminder he could never rid himself of. There was another fainter scar to the side of it where he’d been cut, the mark rough and jagged, but that’d been his own doing.

He hadn’t had the guts to go through with cutting it away, and by this point he didn’t see the point in hiding it. No one this sign of the sea knew it’s meaning, anyway.

He’d been so busy thinking that he hadn’t even heard anyone coming up behind him until he felt lips follow his fingers ad graze gently over scarred skin, firm arms wrapping around his waist and a far too familiar cologne reaching his nose. Jongin always smelt so nice, like . . . spice and honey. Smell was bigger for someone like Lucas than most; he’d always been sensitive to it . 

“Lost in thought?”

“Something like that,” Lucas murmured with a low chuckle, leaning back into the touch and letting his own eyes flutter closed. He had a little bit of a height advantage on Jongin, not even an inch really, but unlike Jongin who was perfectly built he’d always felt, well, overgrown. Lanky. He didn’t fold up nicely or curl into anyone’s touch the way he wished he could sometimes. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m a monster,” Jongin laughed bitterly, stifling the noise in his hair, but Lucas pulled away just enough so that he could turn around and get a better look at the other, brows furrowed.

“Hyung, you can’t blame yourse—“

“No, it’s— it’s _my_ body, _my_ hands that hurt them, and I know it was worse than they said. How can it not be my fault?” Jongin insisted even as Lucas’s hands came up to cup his cheeks. Lucas thought he hid his own pain well, but he could see the moment that the he recognised it, could see the guilt that blossomed on his face as he realised the implications of his words. “Lucas . . . shit, I’m not good at this, am I?”

“Jongin, I know you didn’t mean it like that, but I also understand, yeah? If it makes you feel better, at least you don’t remember any of it — it isn’t you, even if you think it is, it’s another version that’s only bad. You have so much good.” Lucas paused, considering for a moment. “Do you want me to be there, tonight?”

“No, I . . . I don’t want to risk hurting you too,” Jongin mumbled, leaning into his touch almost like he was desperate for it, eyes closed. “I don’t even like the idea of Taeyong being there, even if it apparently listens to him, but Taemin said he’ll step in if he needs to.”

“We’ll deal with it. Like we deal with me,” Lucas hummed, leaning in to steal a small kiss that was returned in earnest. “Hey, at least you don’t want to kill everyone in sight!” He joked, and it wasn’t even funny, really, but the other must have humoured him because he started laughing, shoving at his chest lightly before he ended up dragging him into another kiss as the sun started to dip below the skyline. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /The pink haired male picked up the folded clothes he had set on the bench, walking over to the door and chucking them over as Kai rose from the bed and rolled his neck around to crack it, those dark eyes as unsettling as ever. “Get dressed, we’ve got things to do,” was all Taeyong hummed, turning around and waiting as he heard the shuffling of clothes behind him.
> 
> “Want to help me lace up my pants?”/
> 
> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> In case you were interested, I have a twitter where I post character visuals, special previews etc! https://twitter.com/peachxi1
> 
> I also have a curiouscat where you can ask me anything you'd like or leave suggestions: https://curiouscat.me/peachxi1


	23. Part 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It becomes increasingly hard to ignore their newest problem. It doesn't help that said problem is six foot tall and incredibly infuriating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of a filler chapter, but I really enjoyed writing this one. Things are going to get, uh, intense soon

“You promise I didn’t do anything? That I didn’t hurt anyone? That I didn’t hurt _you_?” Jongin asked for what had to be the tenth time since he’d woken up, looking more rested than he had the day prior even if he was still sporting a bit of puffiness around his eyes, brows furrowed in obvious worry as Taeyong tried to reassure him.

“No one got hurt,” the younger promised, lips curling into a small smile as he reached forward to stroke fingers over the other’s cheek. Truth be told, Taeyong was tired — he hadn’t dared fall asleep while the other was still awake, and like Taemin had suggested he’d only let himself doze off when he was sure Jongin was unconscious and that the sun was up. It meant he’d gotten, what? Maybe two hours sleep since dawn? Even so he didn’t mind, and he wasn’t bothered by it. It’d been worth it to make sure no one got hurt, and to give Jongin the peace of mind so he’d actually get some rest.

Didn’t mean Taeyong didn’t wish he’d gotten another hour before the other had sat up and woke him up to make sure nothing bad had happened during the late hours of the night.

“But what did I do, I can’t even remember. It’s . . . I _hate_ it.” Taeyong let out a soft sigh at that, one that was far from frustrated. 

“Not much, Jongin. You got a few hours and then you— I mean, you know, Kai woke up—“

“Kai?” 

“Mark’s idea, it’s easier to have a name, and he seems to like it.” Jongin didn’t seem too pleased by that. “Anyway, he woke up and we sort of just sat in here most of the night,” Taeyong admitted. “We did go out on the balcony once, but only for a little bit, and it was fine.” He wasn’t going to tell Jongin about how much Kai unsettled him, especially given the fact he didn’t sport, you know, a pulse. Nor was he going to say that Kai seemed to become more and more real each night, because there’d been so much more personality last night, lots of cockiness and snark and flirting, something that Taeyong had never expected. 

Kai seemed to like him very much due to the fact he’d inadvertently made him real.

Taeyong still wished he wouldn’t look at him like _that_ with Jongin’s face.

“But—“ Taeyong cut the elder off with a gentle kiss, tucking silver strands back out of his face and grazing their lips before he pulled back just enough to press their foreheads together.

“No ‘buts’, it all went fine.” He knew it wasn’t that easy — Kai was still a complete wildcard even if he did seem to follow Taeyong’s every word out of some sick sort of devotion to him, like he was somehow his master; Taeyong didn’t like that. Ten had been doing research since he was still mostly on bed rest (his own orders) and he’d admitted that he couldn’t really find stories of anything like this even when he looked back at Fae magic, because as a general rule bringing people back from the dead wasn’t good. Didn’t take a genius to figure out why. As it was, it’d taken numerous lives to balance out the cost of bringing Jongin back after mere seconds. At least they knew it wasn’t necromancy, which was just reanimated corpses filled with their master’s intent. 

Kai was far too sentient.

This was something else entirely and they didn’t really know what they were supposed to do, but they’d figure it out — together, of course, like they’d promised. Even if it meant that Taeyong had to stay up every night and deal with the problem that was _Kai_.

“What would I do without you?” Jongin finally conceded, relaxing against him and closing his eyes before he leaned in for yet another kiss. They both had morning breath, but it didn’t matter. 

“Who knows?” Taeyong found himself teasing, tongue swiping over Jongin’s bottom lip before he forced himself to pull back completely. He’d slept fully clothed last night even though he usually changed into something more comfortable, but in hindsight he was glad he hadn’t, because Kai had stared enough that he’d felt uncomfortable even completely dressed like this. Even so he fished some fresh clothes from his closet and ducked behind the silk screen that sat in the corner of his room, shrugging off his current ones to replace them with something that felt cleaner.

“You know, the screen isn’t really necessary,” Jongin called, though all Taeyong did was laugh, discarding his shirt over the edge. Logically he knew the other was right. He probably hadn’t needed to hide away to change, but he . . . well, Taeyong wouldn’t say he was self conscious necessarily, he’d come leaps and bounds over the months they’d known each other — had flourished — but he still wasn’t used to _this_. Jongin looked like he was carved from marble, and besides, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to take the other staring at him. His libido had been rather intense lately without that.

— 

For the third time in the course of a single minute, Taeyong _almost_ dozed off while he was trying to channel his magic. It was in the way that you didn’t realise until you stirred, how your eyes would start to close as you slowly slipped out of consciousness, the kind that pulled you under so easily and made you want to fall. Gods, Taeyong wished he could’ve just gone to sleep, but this was the last time he could learn from Yixing before the elder left with his King tomorrow and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t make the most of it. The pink haired male rolled his shoulders and tried to wipe any the remnants of that tiredness, focusing as intently as he could.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with so much determination,” the other witch admitted as he sat by his side and observed the way he was trying to encourage a single seed to sprout. Taeyong’s fingers were covered in lingering dirt from where he’d dug a shallow hole to pant the seed, hovering above the spot and spluttering with light as he struggled. “Your magic is weaker today — have you been sleeping?” Taeyong just gave a tight smile.

“I’m fine, promise, just had a patient to attend to.” They’d all mutually decided that the best course of action was to keep their news to themselves, especially given the fact someone had already tried to kill Jongin once; if the word got out that he was weaker in any way, it’d only paint a giant bullseye on his back. More than there already was. Not just that, but they didn’t really want to broadcast that he’d died, or that Taeyong had, you know. Taemin had claimed that if people knew what he was capable of there was no telling what they’d try to do. People feared magic, but they sure as hell liked to use it to their advantage.

_Finally_ , a tiny green sprout broke through the moist soil, reaching up towards the light emanating from his hands so slowly, but he didn’t care. Taeyong absolutely beamed. In the grand scheme of things this was nothing, but to him it was everything.

“You have a deep connection to nature, definitely stronger than me,” Yixing hummed, giving an affectionate half-pat-half-rub to his back as delicate little leaves started to unfurl, stem thickening. “Every time you come out here it’s like the plants sing. Your healing capabilities are incredible, but I think you definitely draw your power from them; think of it like . . . like feeding a fire. You’re the spark, but they’re the kindling you add to make you burn brighter.”

“I come and sit out here by myself a lot,” Taeyong murmured, leaning down a little as a small bud appeared on the plant which was now perhaps a foot tall, leaves spreading out and continuing to grow as it unfurled. Small, pink blossoms, perhaps only a few shades away from that of his hair.

“It shows. I’ve never seen a whole garden in bloom during winter.” Truly, it was a little odd, wasn’t it? At first Taeyong hadn’t really noticed, not until he’d started practicing and everyone else had started to note the changes — Lucas had been the first one to see it, that day under the large Hawthorn tree that’d become a personal favourite. Yixing had said they were seen as Fae trees, a strong source of power. Taeyong was inclined to agree. “You’re already progressing so much faster than I ever did. Baekhyun mentioned that you healed one of the warlocks, Ten?”

“His ribs were broken,” he explained. “I couldn’t fix it completely, it really drained me, but I fixed the breaks a bit.”

“Most people practice from the time they’re children and can still only dream of mending broken bones, Taeyong — I know it seems like you’re struggling, but you need to give yourself more credit. You’re already an amazing witch.” Taeyong flushed a little at that, because even if he was slowly getting much more used to praise it still caught him off guard, especially when it was outside sources. It was just something he’d never had before, something he was growing to like. He enjoyed knowing he was doing a good job. He liked it when people were impressed. When they paid attention.

It was a far cry from his past.

“It’s all thanks to you and Ten. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you,” Taeyong still thanked, the light in his hands fading as the plant finally matured, a beautiful little shrub of pink petals and pale leaves that looked so full of life. He’d done that. “I’ll miss your lessons, Yixing.”

“You’ll have to come visit sometime — I think Minseok would just about die if you did this to our garden, our plants in the north are so bare because of the cold.”

“I think I’d like that.” Taeyong couldn’t even begin to express how nice it felt to have this sort of kinship with someone — to know he had someone like him, someone he could turn to for advance.

“Maybe in the meantime you can work on an assignment, though.” That piqued his interest. “It’s not really necessary but it’d certainly help if we could trace back your heritage. Even if we could just figure out which parent . . .”

“Which one wasn’t,” Taeyong finished after the other trailed off. “It’s okay, hyung, it doesn’t upset me. They’ve been gone a long time, but no matter what they’ll always be my parents, the people that raised me; that doesn’t mean I can’t find out where I really come from. I’ll see what I can find in my mother’s journals, I think I have them tucked away in my things still.”

—

Later that night, Taeyong hadn’t bothered to try and get any sleep. He was rather exhausted, but Yixing’s words to him earlier in the day had sparked an idea in the back of his mind that was probably rather foolish, but part of him felt like it might just work. He’d let Jongin curl around him until the elder had fallen asleep before he’d ever so carefully pried himself away from the other’s grip and slipped out of bed. His room was connected to the apothecary by a single door, and it certainly came in handy, but especially in times like this where he could leave it open whilst he worked to keep an eye on his slumbering king, gathering supplies and tucking them into a small shoulder bag. 

Taeyong was getting good at sensing energy — good enough that he could sense the shift in the air as Jongin seemed to . . . the only way he could describe it was him seeming to fade away. Gods, it was far too similar to what he’d felt when the other had died in his arms. He’d tensed, pulse spiking even as he reassured himself that he’d be back. 

In the meantime, he’d have to deal with the other one.

The pink haired male picked up the folded clothes he had set on the bench, walking over to the door and chucking them over as Kai rose from the bed and rolled his neck around to crack it, those dark eyes as unsettling as ever. “Get dressed, we’ve got things to do,” was all Taeyong hummed, turning around and waiting as he heard the shuffling of clothes behind him.

“Want to help me lace up my pants?”

“No thank you,” he replied evenly enough to surprise himself a little. When Taeyong glanced back the other was thankfully decent, and it was definitely much easier to look at him when he wasn’t half naked, even though staring at Jongin’s face and seeing a lack of him would never be something he could grow used to. “Come on.”

“Aren’t I supposed to stay confined to the room?” The other queried almost cockily as he fell in step behind him, not straying even as they passed the door and started through the maze of halls that existed within the castle walls.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them. Just don’t make me regret it.” Truthfully, they’d never made any rules about what they were _supposed_ to do with Kai, but Taeyong figured that out of everyone he was the best bet to keep him in line, given his . . . devotion. He wasn’t sure that was really the word for it.

“Not going to tell me what we’re doing?”

“No.”

“You _really_ don’t like looking at me, do you, Yongie?”

“Don’t call me that,” Taeyong couldn’t help but to bite out, whipping around just as they stepped into the moonlight that was basking the garden in a soft glow, eyes angry. “Of course I don’t— you’re wearing the face of a man I love and you’re an insufferable asshole who’s hellbent on making me feel uncomfortable. I _detest_ the very sight of you. Don’t speak to me like you’re him, like you’re _anything_ to me.”

Taeyong wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected. Maybe for the taller male to laugh or to smirk that stupid fucking smirk that he seemed to favour, maybe to be angry; he got none of that. Instead, for a split second, it looked like a genuine hurt that flashed across his features, so quick that you’d miss it if you took the time to blink. Hurt. Taeyong hated himself for the fact that the mere sight had him instantly regretting his words and comforting the other. He wasn’t Jongin — he had to keep reminding himself of that.

“I see,” Kai murmured, more subdued than he’d ever heard him, eyes focused more on the ground as he continued to walk past him in the garden.

The pink haired male tried to swallow his guilt as he followed and found a spot beneath the Hawthorn so that he could get to work, pulling out various little jars and vials that he set out around him in a seemingly disorganised collection, keeping quiet even as the other sat across from him silently. “It’s even worse when you don’t make any noise,” he found himself saying as he ground up some dried flowers in his palm, sprinkling them on the grass around them. “You don’t have energy the same way everyone else does — it’s like a void. I forget you’re there.”

“I have his memories, you know.” That made Taeyong look up with wide eyes, hands pausing mid action. “Everything he remembers, I do — I know what he _feels_ , what he does, what it’s like to kiss you. You have very soft lips.” Taeyong just scoffed, averting his gaze. He should’ve known this would just be more nonsense, but it was worrying to know that Kai knew what Jongin did during his waking hours even if the reverse wasn’t true. Maybe they needed to be more careful. “But they’re not my memories, they’re just a cruel reminder of the fact I’m doomed to this, to a half life.” A pause. “He loves you very much, Taeyong.”

“That’s for him to tell me,” he mumbled under his breath, but his tone was much softer, more subdued. “Will you pass me the lavender, Kai?” When he looked up Kai was staring right at him, but even if his smile was more of a smirk it seemed so . . . so genuine — it wasn’t an expression that looked out of place on Jongin’s face, even if he still knew who he was looking at. Taeyong almost wondered if the other was glad to be useful, if he enjoyed sitting out here in the garden and handing him things as he tried to refuel himself as much as possible. Surely not, yet at another glanced he almost seemed peaceful.

“I like it when you say my name like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“We’re just sleeping,” Taeyong huffed in a soft chuckle, rubbing at his eyes a little before he shifted just enough to reach out in his dream, fingers curling into the material of the other’s shirt and drawing him in close. “Even this is just a dream,” he hummed.
> 
> “Dreams hold power, kitten,” Taemin answered smoothly as he allowed himself to be lead forward, eyes a little lidded; the other instantly ducked his head down and bypassed his lips completely to graze his own over Taeyong’s throat, warm breath tantalising as it washed over his skin. “It’s never just a dream, is it?”/
> 
> as always I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!~
> 
> I have a twitter: https://twitter.com/peachxi1
> 
> And a curiouscat: https://curiouscat.me/peachxi1


	24. Part 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> half of the group embarks on a mission whilst the youngest are left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of smut ahead, but I'm going to call it team bonding exercises. Think of it as a treat before everything that's to come

For the record, Mark did not think this was a good idea.

They’d known for days that their last guest envoy would be departing soon and returning to the Northern kingdoms — the trip was never supposed to have taken so long, but obviously there’d been a few problems here and there that’d led to an extended stay. They were _supposed_ to be lending them a few knights as their escort, not accompanying them.

Correction: Jongin, Ten, Taemin and Baekhyun would be accompanying them, whilst he, Lucas and Taeyong would be expected to stay behind and keep things running smoothly.

Everyone seemed to think it was a good idea save for him and Taeyong. Hell, even Lucas seemed to be okay with the idea, claiming that they’d have the whole castle to themselves and could do as they wanted. It wasn’t that Mark didn’t trust them to be able to take care of themselves, okay? He knew how capable all of them were, and together they were a force to be reckoned with on that off chance that something did go wrong, but things had been so crazy lately and they still had no idea why their was a target on their backs. Mark supposed that was why this trip was so important, so they could visit the seer that Jongdae had mentioned, but _still_.

Truth be told, he hadn’t been away from Jongin’s side since he was just a child, and it made him far more nervous than he’d ever care to admit. After what’d happened he couldn’t push out that fear that the moment he wasn’t there Jongin would be taken from him, like he so nearly had been. Besides, Jongin wasn’t in the best state of mind. They were dealing with the Kai problem as best as they possibly could and the fact Taeyong could keep him in line was a bonus, but that was why he was so confused — wouldn’t it be smart to take Taeyong? To mitigate the chance of any incidents.Apparently not.

“Don’t look so down, Mark, I’ll be back before you know it. It’s only a week,” Jongin murmured as they gathered in the courtyard to depart, heavy cloak around his shoulders and his horse a few feet away. He at least looked well rested even though most of his sleeping hours weren’t exactly spent sleeping — he looked healthy. Alive. The elder pulled him into a tight hug, easily masking the way lips pressed against his cheek. “You’re in charge while I’m gone, okay?”

“I know,” he mumbled in response, squeezing back and tucking his body in as close as he could like he was trying to savour the moment whilst it lasted, commit every part to memory so he had something to hold onto over the next week. Jongin would come home. They all would. “I just worry. _He_ won’t be a problem, will he?” Without Taeyong there he was a little concerned about how the hell they planned to keep his little friend in line at night, but for some reason no one else seemed overly concerned by that.

“Taeyong is . . . not very happy about it, but he did give it firm instructions before I woke up that it’s to listen to everyone.”

“Do you think that’ll work?” He asked skeptically as the elder pulled back and fixed his collar, glancing back to where everyone was starting to mount their horses. Nearly everyone was ready to leave save for Taemin who was still standing with Taeyong close by, speaking quietly as they crowded in. Mark wasn’t sure any of them would ever truly be able to comprehend what the hell it was that those two shared, not in the sense of their relationship but . . . well, the magic. It was almost unsettling at times how in sync they seemed to be.

“I don’t know,” Jongin admitted with a shrug, fingers curling through the reigns and tightening as he set one foot into a stirrup before hoisting himself up with ease, flicking his hair back. “But, I have faith in Taeyong, and besides, Taemin is more than capable of dealing with it if it doesn’t listen.” _It_. Maybe it was easier for Jongin to say that because he hadn’t seen just how alive his counterpart seemed to be. ”I’ll bring you home a surprise.”

“Just bring yourself home,” Mark answered, watching as the envoy started to depart. Shit. “That’s enough for me, hyung.” He stood there on the steps as the horses disappeared through the gates, yet even then he waited until they were completely out of view and a little more, heart hammering in his chest beneath folded arms. No matter all his reasoning, he’d been left home, like a child. He probably would’ve stayed there for who knows how longer if a body hadn’t suddenly crashed into him; a lanky arm wrapped around his shoulders and an all too familiar laugh spilled into the air as they almost fell over.

“Brighten up, Mark! We’re going to have so much fun. They’ll be fine,” Lucas insisted, and even if Mark couldn’t quite take that on board he did just relax a little. It wasn’t like he’d been left _alone_. 

“Lucas is right. They can keep him safe from anyone, Mark — even himself,” Taeyong chimed as he walked over to meet them, soft fingers slipping in-between his own and squeezing gently as they all stood there, looking at the empty road. 

—

“Are you sure they’ll be okay?” Ten asked after a few minutes of silence, a huff falling from his lips when all his rather serious question managed to do was make the other’s chuckle. “It’s not funny, we’ve never left them alone—“

“Ten,” Taemin spoke up quietly from where he was riding beside him. The corners of the elders lips were just barely upturned, his energy rolling out and encapsulating his own, soothing, encouraging him to relax. Ten’s fingers loosened their grip on his reigns to something less desperate. “You know I’d never leave if I thought they wouldn’t be able to take care of himself. I mean, I can’t guarantee the castle will be intact, but they’ll be fine.”

“That’s not funny,” Ten mumbled out despite the fact his own lips were twitching up into something more relaxed. He knew they weren’t children — hell, they were all incredibly capable adults. There was nothing to worry about in that regard. He just . . . he didn’t like being apart from them, especially not after everything they’d endured over the past few weeks; the only reason he’d agreed to come along was because he knew there was still a target on Jongin’s back, and this time he wouldn’t be sitting there in the castle when his king needed him. 

Perhaps that was just a little hypocritical given that they’d left their youngest trio behind to be in charge, but it was different. Mark and Lucas didn’t know much about magic, not in the sense that they did. Taeyon was certainly learning, but they needed to leave _someone_ responsible who could keep that pair in line and besides, they’d all agreed this would be easier without the younger here. They weren’t quite sure what they were going to find.

“I think it’ll be good for them,” Baekhyun chimed in as he came up beside them on Ten’s left, hair mused from the wind and his roan mare trotting happily along the road. “Don’t tell them I said it, but they’re not babies, not anymore, and it’s only a week; they’ll probably enjoy themselves without you old people around,” he teased, causing Ten to laugh almost incredulously.

“ _Excuse me_? I’m younger than you — most of us are! I’m not old.”

“Tell that to the mirror.” Ten gasped in offense, whipping his head around to where he could hear Jongin desperately fighting to hold back laughter with one gloved hand clamped tightly over his mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort. His gaze shifted back to Taemin after that who was just watching with a rather amused expression.

“Taemin-hyung.” Hell, he even added an honorific to try and sweeten him up. “I don’t look old, do I?” It was supposed to be a simple question was a simple answer, yet instead the elder leaned in a little, squinting like something had caught an eye.

“Is that a wrinkle?” Ten didn’t care that he’d almost fallen off his own horse as he reached out to shove the other as best he could. Everyone was laughing by that point and it— well, he knew they were all joking, and that was a good thing. He felt like it hadn’t been like this in a while. Even so, it definitely didn’t mean that he couldn’t play it up, huffing and puffing.

“I hate all of you,” he mumbled even if it only served to make everyone laugh even harder, spurring his steed on a little to catch up to the front of the envoy where he could ride with Jongdae and the others. At least they wouldn’t joke about wrinkles that were definitely _not_ there. Ten knew his skin was flawless — he put that mask on each and every day.

—

It was late afternoon, two days after everyone had left, when there was the softest of knocks on his door that preceded a mop of brown hair poking through, wide eyes following. Taeyong just smiled from where he was standing by his bench and reached around to grab one of the cloths he kept handy so that he could wide everything off his hands. “Did you need something, Yukhei?” He felt like he rarely ever called him Lucas anymore, even if that was certainly the name he went by — at least when it was just them; Lucas seemed to really enjoy it, and he thought it . . . well, it just suited him. Of course it did, given it was his birth name, but still. It felt nice to have something just between them like this.

“I was just coming to see what you were doing,” the other hummed as he stepped inside. Taeyong could instantly tell that he definitely did want something even if he wasn’t saying it, because Lucas was far from subtle, and it looked like there were words hanging on the tip of his tongue. Even so he kept his own quiet, fingers carefully tightening up another lid so he could set the jar to the side and reach for the next to funnel fresh ingredients into. “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t really sleep last night, so I figured I’d keep practicing — some of these don’t grow in winter, but with just a little bit of magic I managed to make them bloom. It helps to have a good supply of everything just in case I need it.” Lucas just seemed to let out an interested sort of noise before moving to lean against the bench and watch him. It probably should’ve been annoying to have eyes on him as he worked but it was something that Taeyong was growing rather used to these days, and in a way he rather enjoyed having the company. It was something he’d sorely missed the past two days. This castle was beautiful, but it was so lonely without anyone to fill it. His bed cold. The halls so quiet when Mark or Lucas would be on patrol or picking up on duties.

“Me neither,” Lucas admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I . . .”

“What is it, Yukhei?” Taeyong murmured as he stepped over, reaching out to lace their fingers together with one hand, eyes soft. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” The words were all blurted out so incredibly fast and muddled together that it took Taeyong a few moments to even begin to decipher what the taller male had actually said, but that small pause seemed to have been enough to make the other nervous, worried even. “I— oh gods, no, that’s not what I— not like _that_. I mean, not unless you want, but I just meant . . . I’m not used to sleeping alone, I guess,” the other was quick to try and remedy. Oh. _Oh_. Lucas had thought it was a misunderstanding, but truth be told that wasn’t even what’d been on his mind.

“Hey,” Taeyong chuckled softly, tugging the other forward until those long arms were wrapped around his waist, chin perched on Lucas’s chest as he looked up at him with a pleasant little grin. “Relax. I get it. Of course you can, how else am I supposed to stay warm?”

“I’ll be the best heater, promise.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Taeyong had considered perhaps just, you know, not admitting the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping in his own room the last few nights and going there tonight, but then after dinner Mark had asked quite literally the same thing and he doubted all three of them could fit comfortably into his own bed. He sort of wished he’d at least had the sense to straighten things up this morning so that when they walked in it wasn’t so obvious he’d been sleeping in Taemin’s ridiculously large bed.

What could he say? The silk sheets were really, _really_ nice, and he liked the way they felt against his skin. He’d never gotten a chance to sleep in here before but he was sure that the elder wouldn’t mind.

The thing was, Taeyong seemed to be missing something. It was just a bed in a bedroom, but Lucas and Mark looked so giddy and almost unsure as they all got ready to go to bed. “This is so weird,” Mark _laughed_ as he crawled in first, spread out a little and still leaving a considerable amount of room. Taeyong was at least used to the other without a shirt enough to not be flushing, but it was still a little nerve-racking to pull his own off. He didn’t think his body was bad by any means, it was healthy looking and free from any major marks, a little bit of definition here and there but not much, not like Mark who had the lean, tapered body of an archer, or Lucas who had muscles everywhere from that ridiculously large sword he favoured. 

“Why?”

“We don’t ever sleep in here,” Lucas just laughed, shrugging his own shirt off without a care in the world. Taeyong wanted to argue that he’d seen him in here before, but that’d be admitting to that dream, the one where he’d seen him and Ten, Taemin. The mere thought had him flushing a little. “We always go back to another room after we have sex, Taemin likes to sleep alone.” Okay, maybe he was flushing a lot now, eyes wide. He . . . _oh_.

“Lucas, keep your pants on,” Mark snorted from the bed, and sure enough when Taeyong glanced over the other had them halfway down his thighs, underwear hanging low on his hips.

“You know I get stuffy, Mark!” Lucas actually whined.

“Too bad.”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong found himself saying despite the fact it was a very, very bad idea. “Just keep your underwear on.” He tried to make it sound playful as he wrapped his arms around himself and crawled up into the bed, red silk sliding beneath his touch as he rolled over onto his side, one arm pillowed beneath him and eyes settling on Mark. The pink haired male desperately tried to ignore the way that his heart hammered in his chest as Lucas finished shrugging his pants off and crawled up onto the bed. That warm body plastered to his back without any hesitation, arms wrapping around him and a face pressing into his nape, warm breath ghosting over his skin. What had he gotten himself into?

It was almost like Mark could sense his internal crisis because he just smiled and laughed under his breath, shuffling closer until their knees were touching and settling into the bed, lips grazing over his. “This is much better than sleeping alone.”

“Definitely,” Taeyong murmured in response, smiling back before he forced himself to close his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was in the room, but there was familiar feline eyes peering at him from the edge of the bed, and Taeyong knew he was dreaming; he’d never realised just how real his dreams could be until he’d met Taemin. “How cute,” the elder hummed as he crawled forward, setting up in a bit of space near his thigh and looking over the way the three of them were all tangled up together. “Is my bed comfortable, Taeyong?”

“So comfy,” the pink haired male admitted without any shame, voice a little rough as he cuddled in closer to the warm bodies on either side of him, that pleasant feeling you felt when you were lucid but still dreaming curling through every inch of his body. “How are things?”

“Good. Your pet has been behaving.” Taeyong just let out a sleep little hum at that, almost purring really when fingers reached out to card through his hair, eyes fluttering closed as he nuzzled into the touch like a pleased kitten. “Have they?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, really? I’m surprised you’re still . . . partially clothed.” Dark eyes peeked open a little at the amusement in the elder’s tone. “Clothes aren’t usually permitted in my chambers.”

“We’re just sleeping,” Taeyong huffed in a soft chuckle, rubbing at his eyes a little before he shifted just enough to reach out in his dream, fingers curling into the material of the other’s shirt and drawing him in close. “Even this is just a dream,” he hummed.

“Dreams hold power, kitten,” Taemin answered smoothly as he allowed himself to be lead forward, eyes a little lidded; the other instantly ducked his head down and bypassed his lips completely to graze his own over Taeyong’s throat, warm breath tantalising as it washed over his skin. “It’s never _just_ a dream, is it?” The warlock murmured against his neck, teeth scraping gently over the area before he sealed his lips there, nipping and sucking even as Taeyong tried to hide the way his breath hitched. It was almost infuriating, the way that Taemin could have him like putty in the palm of his hand within mere seconds.

The thing was, he’d offered himself up to Taemin in these dreams more time than he could possibly count. Taemin never mentioned them during waking hours but he knew they felt too real not to be in some sense, that somehow their consciousness sought each other out even when they were dreaming — sometimes it was an accident, like the time he’d accidentally dropped in on rather intimate moments. Even so, he’d never seen the other with so much as a shirt off, never more than a faint sliver of chest. And Taemin had never touched him, not really. Not the way he wanted, even the Taeyong had felt he’d made it so clear that he’d give him anything.

“No,” he admitted, sliding his hands up to curl in Taemin’s hair as the other trailed down his collarbones to his chest, leaving faint red marks and wet patches in his wake. “Min—“

“Min?” Taeyong flushed a little.

“Jongin calls you that.” He almost sounded like he was pouting, a kid caught doing something they shouldn’t and trying to justify his actions, but instead of scolding him Taemin just chuckled against his skin before biting down on his pectoral, not hard enough to really _hurt_ but enough to surprise him, a moan falling from him before he could stop it.

“I spoil you too much,” Taemin murmured as he laved the blossoming bruise with his tongue, pulling back just enough to give Taeyong a glimpse of glowing eyes and vertical pupils; he’d never fathom how anyone could see them as terrifying, even though he knew that would be a logical response. They were so beautiful. “You know I can’t say no to you, you little devil.” His words were accompanied by a playful little growl that had him unabashedly throbbing in his pants, the loose, thin material doing nothing to hide his want as Taeyong squeezed his thighs together. 

“Shouldn’t that be you?” He breathed out, back arching just a little as hands ghosted down his ribs, but before he could get an answer Taemin froze, brows furrowing a little before a look of frustration crossed his perfect features. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, kitten, just things I have to do — make use of that bed for me.”

Taeyong didn’t have time to say anything before lips were pressing against his own far more tenderly and he was waking up, curled between his lovers and still very much hard. The pink haired male just laid there for a few moments, hands scrubbing over his face, heat curled in his gut and a stinging on his chest that had him peeking down to— oh. Well, that was the first time a dream had carried into life so corporeally; right where Taemin had bitten was a clear imprint of his teeth, the skin red and already bruising just a little. Still wet with saliva.

_Make use of that bed for me_.

Surely he didn’t mean . . . well, knowing Taemin, he probably did, didn’t he? Taeyong bit at his lower lip as he considered the idea, thighs idly rubbing together again like he was searching for some sort of friction. Could he? He knew that all he had to do was ask and he’d probably be able to get anything he wanted — it wasn’t like Mark or Lucas would be opposed to it, in fact the latter had even said so earlier in the day. Physical intimacy was something they were used to.

It still wasn’t Taeyong’s forte, but he _wanted_ it to be.

Taeyong turned his head a little to his left where Mark was laying, fast asleep and dressed in only a loose pair of pants that hung low on his hips, stomach rising and falling and mouth open a little. He was fast asleep. Would it be bad to wake him up? Lucas was also fast asleep to his right and sprawled out, face pressed into the pillow beneath him with a little bit of drool on the corner of his lips, but his underwear had shifted a little to the point Taeyong could see those dimples at the base of his spine. It only made the heat in his stomach intensify to the point his hand naturally drifted south, rubbing over the fabric of his pants and letting out a shaky breath.

In the end it was easiest to roll to the left, silk cool against flushed skin as he dared to reach out and trail fingers over Mark’s stomach. “Mark,” he murmured softly, mouth pressing to his shoulder and dragging over his skin, but the other didn’t stir. Taeyong let out a soft puff and propped himself up just enough to be able to lean his torso over the other a little. His touches were fleeting at first, almost tentative really as he moved his fingers up, brushing over Mark’s chest and neck to his face, pushing back some of that inky hair before he dared to lean down and place a kiss on his jaw. Something innocent, close-mouthed, but he trailed them down, hair tickling at the other’s face. Taeyong couldn’t quite help the soft noise that left him as his pelvis shifted against the other’s thigh, shuddering and trying not to rock against him.

“Yong?” A voice spoke up groggily, confused, and Taeyong didn’t answer — he just grazed his lips over the shell of Mark’s ear, hand sliding back down his stomach pointedly and tracing the slight happy trail above the waistband. “I . . . oh,” he breathed, sounding surprised but not annoyed by any means. It seemed to take Mark a few moments to properly wake up but once he was a little lucid one hand settled around him on his waist, brown eyes staring at him almost nervously but holding an obvious interest. Want. Adoration. _Taeyong thrived on it._

“Can I touch you?” Taeyong asked, the words themselves so innocent — out of place given the way his eyes were lidded, cheeks flushed as he peered up at the other from where he was mouthing at his collarbone, pink tongue dragging over his skin leisurely. 

“Shit— I mean, yes. Of course.” He loved knowing he could have this effect on someone. Taeyong hummed as he pulled back just to get a better look, still lounging as his fingers traced over the waistband almost playfully, lower lip trapped between his teeth before he finally dared dip them below. He didn’t go right for the money. Instead he focused on dragging those pants down his thighs a little once the laces loosened, gaze darkening when his eyes finally settled on the other’s length.

Why had Taeyong waited so long?

Given the fact that Mark had been fast asleep only minutes prior he was flattered by the fact that the other already seemed to be at half mast, his eyes watching with rapt interested as his dick twitched and hardened against his stomach, swelling to something flushed and ruddy. Hell, he didn’t even reach out until he saw that first bead of premium gather at the slit. Taeyong felt rather emboldened as he reached out, soft fingers curling almost delicately around the base before he dragged them upwards, slow, the motion a little dry before he used his palm to smear the liquid around the top and pull back down. He almost felt drunk on it.

Mark didn’t seem to be watching his hand, he was watching _him_ , and that was what really did it for Taeyong. “I want to taste you,” he declared, earning a rather enthusiastic moan from the dark haired male before he steadied his cock with his hand and leant forward to slide his tongue around the head. It probably wasn’t even so much of a blowjob at first, just him settled with his chest low and hips raised a little higher, steadied against the other and licking at his cock without a care in the world, tongue lapping over his skin and covering him in saliva before he’d drag his mouth over the length, eyes looking up to survey Mark’s reaction. He looked like he was in heaven. When hands moved down to his hair he just hummed which elicited another groan, finally taking Mark into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks.

“Am I dreaming?”

It was Lucas who’d spoken up from behind him, sounding rather groggy, and all Taeyong could do was pull back and chuckle, nuzzling at Mark’s thigh and letting the soft hairs there tickle his cheek. “No, you’re very much awake,” he promised as he glanced back to where the other was rubbing at sleepy eyes, obviously rather hard already based on the prominent tent in his underwear. His mouth watered a little. “Will you touch me, Yukhei?” The taller male just seemed to stare at him for a moment like his brain took a moment to catch up to the request, but then he nodded far too quickly, as though he thought that if he took too long he’d take it back.

Taeyong let out a pleased noise as a large hand slid up his still-clothed thigh, eyes fluttering before he forced himself to look away as the other settled behind him; he trusted Lucas. “Gods, I’m not complaining, but what’s gotten into you tonight, Yongie?” Mark breathed out as he nipped at his inner thigh, fingers tangling in his hair as he did so.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “I just had a _really_ good dream.” Taeyong parted his lips again and took Mark back into his mouth, humming around his cock and focusing on that heavy weight on his tongue. He couldn’t say he was the best at this — he’d only ever tried with Ten — but he’d gotten a good enough response then and Mark was certainly enjoying himself if the way he kept twitching and moaning was anything to go by.

“Gods, you’re so pretty,” a voice rumbled from behind him as those fingers slid into his pants and eased them down. It was the first Taeyong had done this, let someone see all of him. Even with his desire it was a little nerve-racking, but the soft kiss pressed to the base of his spine had him relaxing a little, focusing on each little kiss as it trailed down and giving Mark as much as he could, tongue swirling even as he bobbed his dead. It was a little wet, a little messy. 

Lucas’s lips trailed down over one buttock, little butterfly kisses left in his wake that were almost too innocent for the situation before his teeth sunk ever so slightly into the meaty flesh. It was a lot harder to focus on sucking dick, after that, but Taeyong was nothing if not determined. “The things I want to do to you— do you trust me?” Taeyong just hummed in response so that he wouldn’t have to pull back, letting Mark guide him a little with those fingers knotted in his hair, drool sliding down his chin in a way that probably should have been gross. It seemed to be all Lucas needed before his hands were settling on either side of his ass and prying his cheeks open without any warning — Taeyong didn’t even have time to be shy before a wet, warm tongue was dragging over his perineum, all the way up over his entrance, pulling a choked noise from him.

Taeyong _should’ve_ pulled back, because this— gods, he hadn’t expected it, but it felt so impossibly good no matter how filthy and debauched, and Mark was just guiding him down further on his erection, just enough to make his jaw hurt in the best possible way, and Lucas was so enthusiastic, eating him out like he was his favourite treat. The pink haired male had never had anyone touch him there even if his own fingers had wandered on occasion, and he certainly hadn’t had anyone’s mouth.

“Relax, Yongie, Lucas loves using his mouth,” Mark reassured as he pulled back to get a breath, chest heaving and hips gently shifting back like he couldn’t quite help himself.

“I learnt from the best.” Hell, Taeyong couldn’t help but wonder who the best was, because this felt so amazing, so taboo in a way that made that heat in his stomach intensify tenfold; no one had even touched his cock yet he was aching and flushed bright red, pre cum dripping down onto the sheets beneath him. _Taemin’s sheets_. Lucas seemed rather skilled with his tongue, the wet muscle twisting and lapping before pushing forward, toying with him really, spreading saliva absolutely everywhere. Taeyong had never felt so close before, not like this.

He practically whined the moment that Lucas pulled back, shivering when he heard the taller spit before his hands pressed his thighs together a little tighter. He was just full of surprises. Taeyong hadn’t expected to feel a burning heat press between his thighs, Lucas’s cock sliding against plush skin and starting a steady pace as he blanketed himself over his back and covered him completely, lips grazing his ear. “Oh,” he managed to choke out when the head of the other’s cock slid against his taint and balls, knocking his own erection and sending even more pleasure sparking through his body.

“Don’t leave Mark waiting,” the other teased despite the the fact his own voice was breathy and strained as he rocked his hips again.

It was overwhelming.

Taeyong sort of just got rather lost in it all.

The witch could _feel_ the energy broiling in the air around them like a brewing storm. It was intoxicating, really, stronger than any alcohol he’d ever experienced, clouding his senses in the best possible ways and erasing any of his worries or shame as he swallowed Mark back down with renewed vigour. Now Taeyong understood how Taemin could feed on lust, it was just another form of life.

It was Mark who came first, cursing and spluttering as his grip tightened and Taeyong let the other cum down his throat; Ten had been right when he said that he’d eventually get used to the taste. He wasn’t there yet, but when you knew what to expect it wasn’t as bad. He’d kept sucking until the dark haired male had been shaking and weakly trying to guide him away at the intense overstimulation — in the end Taeyong didn’t move far, only shifting to lay his head on Mark’s thigh and pull one of his hands close to bury moans into as Lucas continued to move on top of him. Taeyong wasn’t a small guy by any means, not really, but Lucas made him feel so _small_ , so precious with the way he was covering him, whispering words in a foreign tongue that he somehow knew were praise.

He knew Lucas was close when the movements of his hips grew more frantic and one of his hands reached down to wrap around his own cock, and Taeyong would’ve buckled if he wasn’t being held up to a degree, not knowing whether to press back or forward. He got both, because Lucas’s hand was wet and relentless. The body over him tensed suddenly and the other let out a low cry as he buried his face into Taeyong’s hair, hips stuttering and a wetness seeping down between his own thighs; Taeyong came almost in tandem, muffling the noise against Mark’s thigh as the other petted through his hair.

They stayed there like that for a good minute before Lucas pulled back just enough to roll onto his back. Taeyong was instantly pulled in close despite all the mess on the sheets and their bodies, tucked close as he recovered from the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just had.

Well, his hand certainly wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

“We should clean the sheets,” he found himself breathing, but Mark just laughed and shuffled closer to press their lips together in a rather tender kiss. He looked so good, all flushed and sweaty. Relaxed. 

“Tomorrow,” Lucas mumbled against his spine. None of them bothered to hide their bodies or keep, uh, certain extremities away — they sort of just all curled in together as close as they could manage and ignored the way sweaty skin plastered together. “I told you staying back would be lots of fun.” Taeyong managed a hoarse laugh at that and weakly slapped his hand before lacing their fingers together where they lay on his hip.

When they all drifted off again, finger carded through his hair, even if his sleep was free of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“We’re leaving,” Taemin said evenly, features completely blank as he pushed himself up off the ground. 
> 
> “What—“
> 
> “I said, we’re leaving. Get up. We’re going home.”
> 
> “Min,” Jongin murmured softly, reaching out to him, but Taemin pulled away, eyes cold as ice. “We can’t run from this.”
> 
> “I’ll tear the heavens apart myself if I have to. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Kim Jongin.”/
> 
> as always I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> You can find me on twitter @peachxi1


	25. Part 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dreams bring trouble, visions bring pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hNNN it's killing me to slow down a little with updates, but I've been so incredibly busy since uni is starting and I haven't had much time to write, certainly not enough for a chapter a day. Hopefully I'll be able to be a bit more regular with them soon, especially since things are starting to come to a head.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” Taeyong laughed as he followed Jongin down the path, barefoot and smiling. The sun was shining through the canopy and creating a patchwork of shadows on the forest floor, dancing over their forms as they continued; he didn’t know where they were going, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t begin to explain just how much he’d missed the elder while he was gone. “Slow down, my legs aren’t as long.”

Jongin didn’t really slow his pace so Taeyong sped up, chasing after the elder with a wide grin on his face. Everything felt so _perfect,_ so peaceful, heat soaking into his skin. The trees around them were swaying in the gentle breeze, lush with leaves and some sporting blossoms that drifted down into his path, flowers lining the small path they’d been following for a while. It was a perfect spring day. “How much further, hyung?”

“Just a little more, Taeyong, you’ll see. I have a surprise for you.” His heart swelled a little at that and he let out another laugh, spinning a little in his step before getting closer — Jongin wasn’t looking at him but his hair was perfectly slicked back and his skin golden, loose shirt billowing around his elbows as he moved.

“A surprise? What kind?”

“The best kind.”

Taeyong was so used to travelling by horse that coming by foot had meant the route had seemed so unfamiliar — even so it was undeniable that it was their meadow he stepped in to, everything in full bloom. Butterflies skipped between plants, wings fluttering gently in bright patterns as they landed on equally vivid flowers; a bird sang not far off in the distance, the tune something familiar yet unplaceable.

His cheeks were hurting from the constant smiling but he couldn’t help it as he turned to pull Jongin close, only to pause when he couldn’t see him. Taeyong’s smile faded. He twisted around a little better, moving in a circle as he looked around, but he was alone in the meadow. “Jongin?” He called. This was obviously some sort of joke, right? But how had he hid so quickly? “Jongin, this isn’t funny, where are you?” The bird stopped singing as he whirled around again, heart hammering in his chest. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

Taeyong turned again, and when he did the scene changed.

Taeyong wasn’t standing in his and Jongin’s meadow, he was standing in the centre of a small clearing. That wasn’t the only difference. For one, it was night, and the air was shipping around him, icy and biting at his skin as it should’ve been in the middle of winter; the only protection he had from the wind was flimsy sleep clothes, certainly no match for the elements. Taeyong instantly wrapped his arms around himself, disoriented and confused and _scared_. 

A man stepped forward and drew his gaze instantly, dressed in flowing pale clothes and looking . . . gods, ethereal was the only way to describe him. It felt like the breath was sucked from his lungs. Not because of the man’s beauty, even if his features were otherworldly in their perfection, so striking you couldn’t look away — no, it was his energy, so strong yet so familiar, filling the air between them. Taeyong realised two things in rather rapid succession.

One, this man was Fae — not a witch, but a full blooded Fae.

Two, this energy was the same energy he’d felt on the pouch he’d found it that well, dark and cloying despite it’s origin.

Taeyong took a step backwards, heart hammering in his chest.

“Now now, Taeyong, there’s no need to be frightened,“ the man spoke in a smooth voice that chimed like bells. “I’ll admit I used less than pleasant means to get you to meet me, but I knew I wouldn’t get a chance otherwise. You are far stronger than I anticipated, even now.” The pink haired male swallowed thickly and shivered as he glanced around as discreetly as possible for a way out. Within a second he saw the other snap his fingers, and then he was warm again. “Apologies, I forget human bodies are so . . . fragile.” He said it like it was a bad word.

Taeyong had a feeling that running would be useless, and that his best course of action was probably to bide his time, because this man could’ve killed him within a second if he so wished. But he hadn’t, not yet at least. “Who are you?” He asked, trying not to let his voice waver.

“My name is Seungyoun.” A name, but it wasn’t familiar, and Taeyong had no way of knowing if it was the truth — beyond that it didn’t exactly answer his question, not really. He’d try again.

”How do you know my name?”

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” The voice was so sweet, but it wasn’t warm nor comforting. Instead it felt like bugs were crawling down his spine and all Taeyong wanted to do was disappear.

How had he gotten out here? Hell, he didn’t even know where _here_ was, but it was late into the night based on the position of the moon and he was in his bedclothes; the last thing he remembered was falling asleep with his head pillowed on Mark’s chest, Yukhei’s arm wrapping over the other and reaching him a little too. It was . . . a Wednesday, which meant it’d been four days since Jongin and the others left and at least three more until they’d return. He’d spent the night _learning_ with the others, something that’d become a habit over the last few days. Taeyong knew he’d been dreaming of Jongin, but he was starting to realise it hadn’t been a dream, that they never were just dreams, and that somehow this Seungyoun had used an illusion of Jongin to lead him here. How had Mark and Lucas not noticed him leaving bed? He had to have been walking for a long time if the ache in his bare feet was anything to go by.

“I know you killed people, _innocent people_. It was _you_ who poisoned the water,” Taeyong found himself hissing out. It probably wasn’t the best idea to risk infuriating the other but he couldn’t help that anger and fear that welled up inside him.

“A mistake, truly — humans are so fragile, I thought they’d last longer until you could fix it.” None of this made sense.

“I— what?”

“I suppose we could’ve been a little clearer with everything, it was rather frustrating to learn that you’d assumed we were trying to lure your mortal king out.” All Taeyong could do was stare with wide eyes, confused, but he felt like even as it was starting to piece together a little he was missing a vital piece. Jongin had never been the target. 

He had.

“You lured me there to kill me?”

“No, not kill you, never you, Taeyong — they were supposed to bring you back to me alive, but I made a miscalculation; I didn’t realise those humans were . . . dear to you. If I had, they never would’ve been harmed.” Taeyong didn’t believe it, didn’t want to, but there was a small part of him that felt like it was reaching out, whispering that he should listen to what Seungyoun was saying. He was Fae, after all — like him.

“Why me?” Taeyong breathed out, and the way the other smiled . . . gods, he didn’t like it, not one bit. It looked like it was _supposed_ to be friendly or affectionate, but on that perfect face it looked so unnatural, like something pretending to feel, to be human.

“I can see you don’t trust me yet, Taeyong, and I can understand that. I haven’t given a reason for you to, have I?” Taeyong didn’t answer, he just swallowed thickly and stared. “I’ll tell you what, how about I offer a deal, hmm? A little bird told me that you’re much stronger than we anticipated and brought a soul back, but that it didn’t go well. One of your humans, right?” How did he know all this? How did he know any of this? “I can tell you the truth about your parents right now, or I can fix your human — it’s up to you”

“Jongin,” Taeyong breathed almost instantly before he’d even had time to consider the options, eyes filling with hope. “You can fix Jongin?”

“His soul? Why, of course. In ten days, during the full moon, the realms will align and the River of the Blessed will be accessible to those like you— all you’ll have to do is lead him into the woods and you’ll find it. If he bathes in those waters, his soul will be mended.”

“What do you want in return?” Taeyong asked after a few moments of silence so he could commit it all to memory. Ten had taught him well — all magic came with a price.

“Smart boy,” Seungyoun laughed. “All I ask is that afterwards you come with me, just for me to tell you my truth; if you do, I’ll tell you the truth of your parents anyway.” Deep down Taeyong knew he couldn’t trust this man in the slightest, but . . . well, what was he supposed to do? He had a chance to help Jongin. Not only that, but he had a chance to learn the truth he’d been desperate for. Could he truly reject that? Even if it meant putting himself in danger, he had to at least try. 

“Swear to me he won’t be hurt.”

“I swear I will not harm him that night. Will you accept my deal, Taeyong?” The other prompted with a wicked smile, skin shining under the moonlight.

—

“Who did you say this seer was?” Taemin asked as they continued the steady ascent towards the peak of the mountain, all of them single file and hunkered down so that vicious winds didn’t throw them off balance — even his voice was barely audible above the roaring of them.

“I didn’t,” Jongdae laughed, as though he read right through his questioning. They’d been in Elyxia for two days so far and were due to start their journey home tomorrow, but they couldn’t leave without doing what they’d ventured here for in the first place. Maybe no one else had noticed the king’s apprehension, but Taemin sure as hell had. He also hadn’t missed that the king hadn’t come with them. That things had seemed tense this morning before they’d departed for the mountain. 

“It’s a touchy subject and Minseok doesn’t like to talk about it — I don’t know how much you know about the history of our kingdom, but it hasn’t always been so prosperous. The king, Minseok’s father, was a bit of a tyrant, really, wanted him executed the moment he was born because he was a bastard. He already had a son to take the throne, after all, one with _only_ royal blood.”

“What happened to him, then?” Ten asked from behind him.

“When Minseok won the war and killed his father . . . well, he’d been terrified at the prospect of having to fight his brother, but Junmyeon relinquished his claim instantly, said he had another calling and that he’d known this was going to happen since the moment Minseok had been born.”

“You don’t mean to say . . .”

“Yes, Junmyeon is the seer. Truthfully, I don’t know _how_ , the man has no magic in his blood whatsoever, but he’s been right too many times for me to think it’s a farce; you’ll see, when you meet him. Minseok hates that his brother left him to live all alone on this stupid mountain, but Junmyeon still claims that it’s because of some higher sort of purpose,” Jongdae explained as they neared a small plateau, reaching it first and helping them all up onto steady ground; the sides of the mountain managed to provide some respite from the conditions. “I don’t understand it, but I’m sure those of you who are magically inclined will be able to feel it.”

Hell, Taemin already could. Perhaps ten feet away there was a small entrance into the mountain, and even from here he could feel the warmth radiating from it, not energy but real warmth. Steam. Elyxia was a cold kingdom, the ground often frosted even in summer, but in the middle of a winter like they were currently experiencing it was piled thick with snow and blizzards were common. This was not what he’d expected from the tallest peak in their mountains, the one that towered over the castle.

“It’s a volcano,” Taemin hummed, more to himself than anything as he helped Baekhyun up the last step.

“How did you know?” Jongdae asked with obvious surprise.

“Volcanic rock,” was all he answered. It was everywhere, the dark stone a stark contrast to everything else, something he’d noticed on the way up the mountain. Not just that, but up here the heat was tangible, warm enough that no ice had settled on the rocks around them; in fact, there was pools of water in the depressions. 

“Smart. Yes, it is in fact a volcano, but there’s nothing to worry about — it’s been dormant for hundreds of years, certainly since the time of the Gods.” 

Taemin glanced over to where Jongin was standing with Ten close to his side, their fingers laced together even now. It’d been a rather rough night. Taemin was more than capable of dealing with the other’s nocturnal alter ego, but it was still something that was rather hard to ignore when you were faced with it. Kai was insufferable. He really did seem to despise all of them for reasons that they couldn’t begin to understand, but he didn’t need to like them, he just needed to behave to a degree, which he thankfully had been thanks to Taeyong’s words, but he was a master at getting on their nerves. They’d had to quite literally hold Baekhyun back last night after the other had made some rather snide comments, and that was saying something given that Baekhyun certainly didn’t have the shortest fuse of them. 

“He’ll be expecting us,” Jongdae explained as he led them inside, and instantly Taemin was aware of two things:

First of all it was the heat, so intense and different to the air outside that they’d all had to pause for a moment to adjust — not scalding, not even enough to make them sweat outright, but it was still a lot.

Second was the traces of power that curled around him, almost like sniffing him out, investigating. Sentient. It was older than any energy that Taemin had ever encountered in the past. _Ancient_. Okay, now he understood, and he could see the moment Ten felt it too when the other spared a confused glance his way. For once, Taemin couldn’t give him answers, just nodding for him to keep going and stick close. It was a narrow corridor they walked through first, a little rugged but obviously carved out of the mountain a long, long time ago, lanterns hanging from the walls and a thick moisture hanging in the air as they followed their guide.

The chamber they eventually entered was nothing short of a monolith.

Taemin had to crane his neck to get a glance at the ceiling, yet even then it was so high up that the dark almost masked it completely, faint glimmers shining through like stars — one glance around the space suggested it was crystals, because there were crystals, well, everywhere; some were small, perhaps the size of a palm or forearm, but there were some so big Taemin couldn’t fathom how they’d been formed, easily as big as him. 

Other than those, one of the things he noticed first was the large pool in the middle of the room, naturally formed but with smooth steps descending down into steaming water. A natural spring, he’d garner, but he was starting to wonder if any of this was natural. There seemed to be a makeshift alter at the far end and a crude door to the side, but in front of the alter kneeled a man, head bowed and back turned to them. He didn’t stir even as they approached.

“It’s good to see you again, Jongdae. You’ve brought guests.” Finally the man — Junmyeon? — rose from the ground, turning to face them. He was dressed in simple clothes that you’d expect to see on common folk rather than the man who’d been next in line to be king and had been raised in the castle his entire life. He had a kind face, the sort that instantly made you relax, dark hair falling over his forehead. A little short, but with a stockier stature. Jongdae embraced the other without hesitation like you would family and squeezed him tightly before turning a little to half face them.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” the warlock snorted with a smile, and Junmyeon just curled his own lips in response and bowed his head to them, a little.

“I didn’t want to scare off your new friends.”

“We heard you can see the future,” Taemin spoke up only a second after the other had finished talking. There was no point pretending, and besides, this place was unsettling — it took a lot for Taemin to admit that. It . . . gods, this place felt like it didn’t like him. As if to prove a point, the ground seemed to rumble a little.

“Dormant my ass,” Baekhyun breathed out, a little pale. Junmyeon didn’t seen offended in the slightest by his behaviour, just amused. 

“Past, present, future — I see what the world wants me to.” Taemin resisted the urge to snort, though he couldn’t help but think about Taeyong as the other spoke. His little witch often complained he was too cryptic, but he wasn’t this bad, surely. “You’re here to know if you’re still in danger. It depends on a choice.”

“What do you mean, a choice?” Jongin was the one to finally speak up, brows furrowed. The see just smiled and motioned for them to come closer, sitting down on the ground; Jongdae sat first, looking excited and telling them to sit, too. It felt a little ridiculous to be sitting in a circle in front of the altar, something he could now see was rather old too and inscribed with languages even he didn’t know, offerings of flowers and fruit set around it. This was a temple, or sorts, or . . . a grave, perhaps.

Junmyeon didn’t answer them instantly, in fact at first he focused on lighting a small stick of incense, propping it nearby and letting the scented smoke slowly curl around them. More specifically, him. Taemin could feel the way that the energy rose in the room — it was almost deafening, a steady buzz. The smoke seemed to have a mind of it’s own with the way it danced around the other male almost like it was caressing over his skin.

“Junmyeon’s visions are never straight forward,” Jongdae explained softly. “Like he said, it could be something that’s already happened, something that is going to happen, or something that’s already happening. He doesn’t have control over it.”

It was rather uncomfortable to just sit there and wait in silence and Taemin was starting to get antsy, skin crawling, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he fiddled with the cuff at his wrist before huffing. This was ridiculous. He was just about to push himself up off the ground when Junmyeon’s eyes snapped open again, his eyes completely white like his pupils had rolled into the back of his skull, the air going deathly still around them.

“I see a forest,” he breathed, voice far off. “A river, flowing underneath a full moon —“ He cut himself off, a tear slipping from his left eye and sliding down over perfect skin, falling onto the hand in his lap. “I see what could’ve been in another lifetime, but I see the death that prevents it.” Taemin inhaled sharply, body tensing.

“I see a baby in the arms of it’s mother, hair stained with blood. White blossoms. 

I see _blood, so much blood,_ so much _pain_ and _suffering_ — I see a beast, crying in anguish, I see—“ Junmyeon seemed to be getting increasingly more agitated, chest heaving as tears spilled from pail eyes, voice shaking and knuckles white. Jongdae reached out to set a hand on his shoulder, brows knitted in obvious concern as he opened his mouth to speak but the other suddenly froze, expression glazing over.

_“When the sun no longer shines_

_and the grass is watered with blood,_

_when the damned weep_

_and the heavens flood,_

_a lost prince will draw his last breath.”_

Taemin could only describe it as bone chilling, how the two voices overlapped, both seemingly spoken from Junmyeon’s mouth before his eyes snapped shut and he let out a pained noise, slumping a little against Jongdae’s shoulder. The ground trembled under them like a monstrous roar. All he could do was stare as a small line of blood trickled from the seer’s nose, yet even then he was managing a weak smile as his eyes reopened normally, whispering in a tongue he was unfamiliar with and setting a hand on the stone beneath him. The rumbling stopped. 

Everyone looked a little pale. 

For once, Taemin was . . . he wasn’t quite sure. There was _too much_ emotion, as opposed to not enough, and all he could do was turn his gaze to Jongin who looked almost resigned. He— no. _No_. This was _not_ a death sentence, he refused to believe it. Fuck fate, and fuck whatever sort of prophecy that was. He hated seeing the fear on Ten’s face, the way his hands were shaking a little, the way even Baekhyun seemed to be having trouble keeping it together. This didn’t tell them anything, not who to look out for or what was going on, just that—

No.

“We’re leaving,” Taemin said evenly, features completely blank as he pushed himself up off the ground. 

“What—“

“I said, we’re leaving. Get up. We’re going home.”

“Min,” Jongin murmured softly, reaching out to him, but Taemin pulled away, eyes cold as ice. “We can’t run from this.”

“I’ll tear the heavens apart myself if I have to. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Kim Jongin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“I wish I could see the sun,” Kai murmured as they’d trekked back up the castle steps, a sort of longing on his face that Taeyong had seen a few times, now. It . . . it wasn’t really possible, was it? Kai left with the sun each morning, and whilst he’d never explained what it was like to fade, Taeyong had a feeling that it couldn’t be the most pleasant experience, even if he’d remember Jongin’s day each time he woke up. “I mean, who knows how long we have anyway,” he snorted, shaking his head as they reached his room. Taeyong found himself pausing as he closed the door./
> 
> as always I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> you can find me on twitter @peachxi1


	26. Part 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The envoy return home, but the happy reunion is shadowed by what they've learnt on their trip. Taeyong feels like he's going crazy. Ten and Lucas make a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been a while! It was my first week of uni and my days have been so jam packed, I've been up at 4:30 every morning to travel and haven't been getting home till 5pm+, but I had a free day today so I managed to finish a chapter! Hopefully things will settle soon :)
> 
> also, in case you're interested you can find me on twitter @peachxi1

As familiar horses came back into view after possibly the longest week of his life, Taeyong wasn’t quite sure he was going to latch onto first — too many choices. In the end, he didn’t have to make the difficult decision. Jongin was the one who was off his horse first before it’d even truly stopped and launching towards him, thick arms wrapping around him and pulling him tight against his chest; he’d reached out for the others too like he was desperate to have them close, trying to encompass Mark and Lucas in his grip as well. It was exactly what Taeyong had needed, but it felt almost frantic, and when he managed to squeeze his head through to peer behind him he could see the solemn air that seemed to hang above everyone.

Something was wrong.

Instinctively, he turned his gaze to Taemin for answers, but for the first time in a long time the other’s gaze was so closed off and cold. It was like whiplash.

Ten was the one who moved forward after that, breaking them apart just a little, but they were all close still as they started being steered back into the castle. “Come on, we have a lot to talk about,” he breathed, voice tight. Taeyong’s own peace had been shattered days ago, but he still wished that he didn’t have to see the way Lucas and Mark’s good mood dropped almost instantly. They’d been having so much fun.

It was the meeting room that they’d piled into that’d made it clear, as if everything else hadn’t, that there was a serious issue to address — not just amongst them, but something that potentially involved the safety of the kingdom and their people. Jongin didn’t sit at the head of the table, instead he settled in-between all of them, an arm around Taeyong’s shoulders and his hand tangled with Ten’s, a similar situation on his other side with Lucas and Mark. Baekhyun had crowded his chair in as well. It was Taemin who sat at the head, shoulders tense.

“Do you know who it was?” Mark was the first one to break the silence, expression more schooled and all business even as he leant into Jongin’s side and drank in the attention. 

“No,” Baekhyun murmured and forced himself to sit up straighter. The pink haired male let out a shaky breathe because, gods, he knew. Taeyong tried to reach out to everyone with his energy, to swaddle them in it and try to bring some comfort even if most of them wouldn’t be aware of it, and Ten certainly reached back, but when he reached Taemin it was just an ice cold wall. Did he know? He couldn’t, could he? But if so why was he acting so distant, so indifferent?

The truth felt like it was trying to claw it’s way up his throat as he sat there, but he . . . he didn’t have a choice. They couldn’t know, not yet.

“We don’t know who has been targeting us, or why. We just know that . . .”

“Don’t,” Taemin spoke, voice sharp, and he instantly felt Jongin tense beside him.

“There’s no point ignoring it, Taemin — you heard what Jongdae said, Junmyeon has never been wrong,” the king tried to reason, voice a little strained, like he was angry. Taeyong was starting to realise just how much tension had been in the air. They’d been fighting, hadn’t they?

“I don’t—“

“Care?” Jongin bit out. “I know, you’ve said it a thousand times, it’s all you _will_ say. Even you don’t get to decide who lives and dies, Taemin, so you can either get the fuck over yourself and be here for me, or you can go.”

“Jongin,” Ten half gasped, but the silver haired male stood firm, jaw ticking and gaze barely hiding all that pain. Taeyong naturally wanted to get up from his seat when he watched Taemin rise and storm off, but he . . . no, he had to stay — he needed to know what the hell was going on.

“You saw the seer?” Lucas asked quietly, eyes wide and nervous.

“We did,” Baekhyun mumbled, rubbing at his face. “He . . . he didn’t tell us anything we’d gone there for, but it doesn’t look good — we still haven’t completely figured out what it _means,_ it’s a little unclear, but—“

“I’m going to die.” Hearing Jongin saw those four words made his blood ran cold and Taeyong instantly turned in his seat. 

“Not necessarily—“

“Baekhyun, it’s fine. Who else could it be referring to, huh?” Even if Jongin was smiling it did nothing to hide that pain in his eyes, the resignation; Taeyong couldn’t help but feel angry at Taemin, no matter his reasons, for leaving when Jongin so obviously needed them. All of them. “At least I know when, and it means . . . it means I can make the most of what time I have left.”

“Hyung, you can’t—“

Jongin shushed Mark by tugging him closer and pressing his face into dark hair, nuzzling in close. “I’m not going to down without a fight, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But I don’t think even I can cheat death twice.”

“How long?” Lucas asked, voice hoarse.

“Till the solar eclipse — two weeks, give or take a few days.”

“No,” Lucas rasped, pushing himself up with eyes that were so obviously watering, his bottom lip trembling. “I— _no_! I’m not going to let it happen, I swore I’d protect you. You’re not going to die!”

“Xuxi.” Ten got up from his seat, obviously struggling to keep it together as he reached out towards a trembling Lucas, but the other just pulled away, trying to hide his tears. “Xuxi, sweetie, none of us are just going to let this happen, okay? But we have to take it seriously.”

“I can’t lose any of you—“

Lucas was always so positive and full of smiles, the life of the party. It was so incredibly jarring for Taeyong to see him crying and breaking as Ten stepped in to let him curl in close, hand smoothing over his back. He wasn’t even aware of the tears trailing down his own cheeks until he felt fingers tenderly wipe them away. It was Baekhyun who’d extended a hand, his own eyes speaking volumes, and Taeyong could see how hard he was trying to keep up appearances — for them. He was their hyung, after all. Taeyong didn’t want him to hold back all that pain, so he let the elder guide him onto his lap and hold him; he didn’t break down, he just let Baekhyun tuck his face into the side of his throat and pretended like he didn’t feel the tears falling there, stroking his fingers through black hair.

Jongin couldn’t die.

He wasn’t going to let him.

“Taemin?” Taeyong murmured as he let himself into the other’s room an hour later, eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the low lighting and register the destruction inside. The curtains were drawn, but everything inside was chaos — vases lay smashed and the bed was in shambles, like a beast had been unleashed within these four walls, and in the middle of it all sat Taemin, face void of anything but hands dripping blood down onto the rug. “Oh, _Taemin_ ,” he choked out, walking over and letting the other tug his legs closer to hide his face, not caring if the blood smeared on his clothes. “It’s all going to be okay, I promise.” Taemin didn’t answer him.

—

“Good morning, Taeyong,” Kai yawned as he sat up in the bed, but Taeyong didn’t look up from where he was sitting with a large book resting in his lap. He really needed to get Jongin to start wearing shirts to bed.

“It’s night time,” he murmured in response. It wasn’t supposed to sound like attitude or anything of the sort, he was just busy, trying to use the little guide that Yixing had left him to try and decipher some of the runes they’d found in the older tomes in the library — Fae runes. It was interesting, really, the way they were more so made up to represent ideas than sounds or letters, very different to his own language, but he supposed his heritage made him even more drawn to it all. He wanted to know as much as he could, going into this.

“And I see they made it home in one piece.” _Home_. Was that really the way that Kai saw the castle? Maybe, because the more he thought about it, well, the other had sort of spent most of his rather short life. Taeyong didn’t want to be understanding, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be sympathetic, but it was sort of hard. Maybe it was just hard not to be now, knowing what he did, what he was going to have to do.

“They almost didn’t,” Taeyong huffed, but there wasn’t any venom in his tone as he finally glanced up when the other shifted across the bed to sit closer. “I heard that you didn’t make it easy for them. I asked you to behave.”

“Exactly,” Kai mused as he leant in closer to get a look at the book in his lap, nose crinkling. “You told me not to hurt anyone, but you asked me to behave — I did, most of the time.” Taeyong wanted to bite back that they both knew it hadn’t been a suggestion, but . . . well, he supposed Kai was right. For once. He hadn’t explicitly told him to, it’d just been a rather strong suggestion. “Besides, they deserved it, they always talk about me like I’m not there. At least it stopped them moping.”

All Taeyong could do was stare at the other for a moment, brows furrowed as a few things clicked into place in his brain. He wished they hadn’t

“Would you like to help me pick supplies tonight, Kai?” It was hard to watch the way the other’s face lit up at the offer.

“Your wish is my command, Yongie.” Taeyong didn’t scold him for the nickname this time, just closing his book and setting it to the side before motioning for the other to follow him into the apothecary. Kai was a good worker — an enthusiastic one, and once you got past all the smug little comments and looks he . . . well, he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t too bad. Maybe it was a sense of duty because he’d inadvertently made him, or maybe it was something else, but there was a fondness there — a want to teach the other and let him experience the things he’d never had a chance to. To build memories of his own. That night they focused on gathering things from the garden and the sill in the apothecary, with Kai holding the basket and listening intently to Taeyong’s every word as he explained what each plant was and the uses.

The next night, they sat in the library for hours as Taeyong did more research, and it was both of them learning more about Fae magic as they poured over thick, dusty tomes that’d been tucked away for decades, knee to knee.

The night after, Taeyong did something stupid. He _knew_ that if anyone found out there’d be more questions than he was willing to answer, but that hadn’t stopped him from sneaking Kai out of the castle just before midnight and taking him into the woods until just before the sun started to rise. It hadn’t been anything crazy, it’s just— gods, Kai was like a sponge, so willing to learn, to soak up the world around him, and the more Taeyong was around him the less he could distinguish between Kai and any other living person.

Kai wasn’t Jongin, and Jongin wasn’t Kai — they were two very different peoples, but there was traces of both of them in the other, and it was becoming increasingly obvious to Taeyong that Kai was just a version of Jongin that could’ve been.

He was alive, just as much as them. And okay, yeah, maybe he could be a jerk and maybe he made Taeyong want to hit him sometimes, but he wasn’t _bad_ , not by a long shot. Taeyong had seen bad, and the man that’d crouched down with such worry to carefully scoop up a baby sparrow who’d fallen from it’s nest wasn’t bad. He’d just never had a chance.

“I wish I could see the sun,” Kai murmured as they’d trekked back up the castle steps, a sort of longing on his face that Taeyong had seen a few times, now. It . . . it wasn’t really possible, was it? Kai left with the sun each morning, and whilst he’d never explained what it was like to fade, Taeyong had a feeling that it couldn’t be the most pleasant experience, even if he’d remember Jongin’s day each time he woke up. “I mean, who knows how long we have anyway,” he snorted, shaking his head as they reached his room. Taeyong found himself pausing as he closed the door.

Of course Kai knew what the prophecy entailed, what Jongin felt. He was probably scared. 

“Come with me,” Taeyong found himself saying as he reached out to take the other’s hand — the first time he’d ever willingly touched him — and led him out onto the balcony. He didn’t explain what he was doing right away, he just picked a good spot and settled down onto the cool stone beneath them, guiding Kai to sit by his side and not letting go of his hand. He wasn’t sure why. “I . . . it might only be a sunrise, but I hope you like it.”

Kai just stared at him in surprise for a few moments before Taeyong smiled and reached out to turn his face back out to the city. No matter how many sunrises Taeyong had seen in his life, they never lost that incredible sense of wonder; they were magical, in their own way. He couldn’t ever begin to comprehend what it’d feel like to see it for the first time. “I’m tired,” the silver haired male breathed out, grip tightening on his own, but Taeyong just let him lean closer as the sun slowly began to peak up over the edge of the horizon, filling the sky with a brilliant mixture of golds, oranges and pinks. It was like the universe _knew_ and had put on it’s best show just for them. “It’s . . . it’s so beautiful,” Kai murmured, awestruck, and Taeyong watched as the unthinkable happened.

He smiled.

Not a smirk or even one of those cocky grins, but a wide, joyful smile that bunched up his cheeks and made him seem so happy, so youthful.

“It is,” Taeyong agreed softly, feeling that hand slacken in his own a little. He watched as Kai faded away, that smile not quite leaving his lips even as his eyes fluttered close and he slumped into his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and fingers still tangled with his own. Gods, what was he going to do?

—

“Ten, you need to sleep.”

Ten just let out a noncommittal hum from where he was hunched over yet another book, fingers dragging over old parchment as he flipped to yet another useless page. None of these had the answers he wanted— no, _needed_.

“Ten.”

“Xuxi, I’m fine,” the dark haired male laughed gently, hair back to black again. “I just want to finish reading this book.” Truth be told, he hadn’t really been sleeping, but he had a feeling that none of them really had been lately. There was too much on all their minds; a sword hanging over their head. It was hard to find a balance between finding a way to cheat fate and spending precious moments with a man you loved when said man’s life hung in the balance. They couldn’t lose him. Ten couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

“Ten,” he breathed, quieter. “ _Please_.” That made Ten pause and glance over to where Lucas was laying in his bed, his features twisted into an obvious concern. Begging. He just stared for a moment before he sighed and reluctantly set the book aside so that he could crawl back over into the rugs and join him, instantly letting those arms tug around him and pull him in close.

“I’m sorry—“

“You don’t need to be sorry, Tennie, I just . . .I feel like I’m losing _all_ of you. Taemin-hyung hasn’t left his room and Baekhyun’s pretending everything is fine but it isn’t and Mark won’t talk to me, and Jongin, he’s so certain he’s going to _die_ and I can’t do anything to fix it. I can’t even hold him at night. And Taeyong . . .”

“There’s something up with him,” Ten finished softly. They’d all been distracted, but he was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it. He was quieter. Always doing something and not saying what. Hell, Ten didn’t even know when he was getting sleep, because each night he had to babysit _Kai_ , and these days he didn’t seem too angry about it. “We all cope in our own ways, but I’m sorry iff I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me,” he murmured as he reached out to slide his hand over Lucas’s cheek then to the back of his neck, tracing the mark there and making the other close his eyes. 

“I know you’ll always be there for me, Ten.”

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, Lucas just absolute putty in his hands as he grazed his fingers over that familiar scar and mapped it out time and time again, eyes dragging over the other’s face. Lucas was . . . he was special. So incredibly special, even if he often needed reminding of that, and all Ten had ever wanted to do was give him everything he could, within his power and beyond. There’d never needed to be a talk about sharing — they had each other, and they had everyone else. They all had each other. There wasn’t any jealously even when Lucas had told him about what they’d gotten up to while he was away, how he, Mark and Taeyong had spent night after night curled up in Taemin’s bed, just exploring each other, comforting each other. Okay, maybe a little jealous, but only in the best way.

“If it comes down to it,” Lucas mumbled, shifting in closer and keeping his eyes closed, “I want you to break the seal.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I— listen, I’ve thought about it, Ten. I know you might not be able to fix it afterwards, but that’s . . . that’s okay. I can deal with it, as long as we don’t lose him. I swore I’d do anything to keep him safe.”

“Wong Yukhei,” Ten managed, voice thick. “Jongin would never ask that of you—“

“I know.” Lucas opened his eyes. They weren’t scared, just filled with a strong resolve, a burning heat. “But he doesn’t have to. It’s my choice.” Ten willed his eyes not to water and brought his hand back to cup the other’s cheek as he stretched his neck up to plant a tender kiss on his forehead, staying there for a moment. “Will you promise me, Ten?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“You’re going to be the death of me, Taeyong,” Jongin groaned as he was pulled down onto the bed, yet Taeyong shifted away even as the other chased his lips and set a hand on his chest to stop him.
> 
> “I’d rather be the opposite,” he murmured, eyes a little dark. By that point the robe had fallen off one shoulder and was seldom doing much to cover his chest. “Lay down for me, your majesty — let me take care of you tonight.”/
> 
> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	27. Part 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taeyong makes some hard decisions, but he isn't quite prepared for the consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoopsie this is a long one, and there's a lot of, uh, well, you'll see. It was a wild ride to write, but I hope you all enjoy it! Just know I bawled my eyes out during certain parts
> 
> ALSO, I'm so sorry if I haven't been replying to comments as much I've just been so busy with uni and also I haven't wanted to spoil anything hNN

In an ideal world, Taeyong would be completely sure of his plan — then again, in a truly indefectible world he never would’ve had to resort to these sorts of means in the first place.

Typically, it was Jongin who ended up wandering into his own quarters a few hours after dinner, certainly long after the moon had risen, and he knew it was usually because the silver haired male tried to stay awake as long as possible and spend time with them all. Taeyong refused to tack on the ‘while he still could’ that his mind supplied, because, well, he refused to acknowledge the prophecy; he refused to accept that something as obscure as _fate_ could dictate their lives. No, he was going to ensure that Jongin lived a long and fulfilling life, surrounded by love.

Tonight it was Taeyong who slipped out of his own room, dressed in little more than a thin, breezy robe which was probably notably sheer in certain lighting, hair soft and skin shining as he moved through the halls and down a flight of stairs. Despite himself, he’d paused when he caught sight of an open window, fingers gently tracing over the wooden frame. He wasn’t sure a full moon had ever felt so daunting before.

But he had work to do. 

It wasn’t like he had to traverse the whole castle to reach the king’s rooms — Jongin had set them all up in the same wing of the castle, the royal wing, so that they’d all be close regardless. Really, sometimes he didn’t even know why they all had a room. It was nice to have personal space to escape to, but . . . well, he wasn’t sure that any of these rooms were ever really in use at the same time. Perhaps two or three, what, maybe four at once?

It was only perhaps two hours after dinner when he slipped past Jongin’s door and let it click shut audibly behind him to signal his arrival, cool air brushing over his skin. For a moment he just admired his lover’s profile; seated at his desk, face illuminated by the warmth of a flickering lantern that danced across his features. His brows, the slope of his nose, full lips that he’d grown so fond of. It was moments like these that Taeyong felt the need to cherish and commit to memory. “Sorry, I was coming soon—“

“It’s okay, Jongin. I thought we could stay in here tonight,” Taeyong hummed softly in reply, walking over to rub hands over his shoulders firmly, nuzzling into his hair. “Sound good?”

“Mmm,” the elder rumbled as he leant back into his touch and brought one hand up to rest over his own, squeezing gently. “Anywhere is good, Yongie.” Taeyong smiled a little at that and pulled back just enough to tug at the other’s arm, trying to guide him away from his desk, and after some grunting Jongin begrudgingly followed even if he seemed happy. He paused the moment he caught sight of him. Truthfully, it took everything for the pink haired male not to go up in flames, because he _knew_ what he had to look like. Hair fluffed up and skin glowing from a good soak in his bath followed by plenty of lotions, the soft robe flowing around him and loosely tied around his waist; the chest had fallen open just enough to reveal sharp collarbones and paler skin, a few blemishes here and there that he could blame Baekhyun for.Even as he tried to relax, his cheeks did blossom with a soft wash of colour.

“Taeyong . . .”

“C’mere,” was all the younger answered, tugging on the other’s hand until Jongin finally wandered in close enough for him to set hands on the taller male’s chest, noting how the other was pointedly staring. Perhaps there was even a hint of a flush on his king’s cheeks, too. 

“What is . . . you don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t you like it?” Taeyong asked as innocently as possible, attempting to take a page from Ten’s book as he tilted his head almost coyly, looking up through dark lashes and letting his fingers graze over the material of Jongin’s shirt. “Do you really think I don’t want this, Jongin? I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he huffed fondly. Taeyong shifted to pull back just a step, calves hitting the edge of the bed, though he didn’t sink into it just yet. 

“Of course I— _gods_ , of course I _like it_ , Yong. You look gorgeous.” Taeyong practically preened at his words, a warm buzz slowly settling under his skin as he watched the way that Jongin looked at him, the way he _wanted_. He wasn’t sure this was something he’d ever be able to get over, the way that he could invoke such desire in anyone, let alone someone as ravishing as those he loved. A king, of all people. “Where’d you even get that?”

Truly, Taeyong hadn’t planned this, not really. He’d wanted to do something like this for a long time, but with everything hanging over their heads it’d never truly felt like the right time; maybe it still wasn’t, but would there ever truly be a perfect moment? Being with Jongin, that in itself would make the moment perfect. He’d been sifting through old trunks of clothes they’d come across in spare rooms when he’d fount it, a soft, billowing robe that was probably meant to be worn in your own chambers — really, it was probably the sort you wore for the sole purpose of inviting eyes. It was opaque enough to hide detail, but in the light his figure was rather obvious.

“I stumbled across it,” was all Taeyong offered in explanation, “but it suits me, right? It’s incredibly comfortable, too — I think I’ll enjoy sleeping in it, sometime.” Sometime, as in not now. His hands shifted back onto the bed and he pulled his hips back to sit down, legs folding carefully as to not flash himself, leaning back somewhat in a way that was rather obviously inviting. Like a moth to a flame, Jongin stepped forward until he was standing in front of him, warm hand settling on his cheek as he brushed their lips together finally. Neither could be blamed for the way that the kiss didn’t stay tender for too long; nonetheless it was still rather adoring even as their tongues slid against each other, each of them pressing forward and searching for more. Jongin’s free hand settled on his wait and Taeyong’s own shifted up so one could tangle in his hair and the other could run over his chest, slipping under his shirt and unabashedly admiring the toned muscles under his touch.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Taeyong,” Jongin groaned as he was pulled down onto the bed, yet Taeyong shifted away even as the other chased his lips and set a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’d rather be the opposite,” he murmured, eyes a little dark. By that point the robe had fallen off one shoulder and was seldom doing much to cover his chest. “Lay down for me, your majesty — let me take care of you tonight.” Taeyong could see the way that the king paused and seemed to want to reach out instead, but after just a few moments he complied; Jongin scooted back on the bed until he was closer to his headboard and lost his shirt in the process to reveal honeyed skin dusted with faint freckles from years in the sun, hair a mess from wandering hands and cheeks warm. 

Taeyong shifted closer until he was holding himself above the other’s thighs in a half straddle, his own fingers reaching out to trail down firm muscle and pave the way for gentle butterfly kisses that had the other twitching under his touch, like even those delicate brushes were euphoric. Perhaps they were, with the way that he was allowing his own energy to engulf both of them. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he breathed as he carefully unlaced the other’s pants, taking his time in dragging them down thick thighs that were dusted with soft splatters of hair that tickled his palms as they drifted back up. Jongin cursed. “Ever since I first saw you,” Taeyong found himself admitting, eyes flicking up to meet the elder’s before they settled back on his target.

It was probably a little odd, to describe a dick as beautiful in any regard — they weren’t really the most glorious of things — yet perhaps (read: definitely) he was biased when it came to Jongin. After only a little kissing his lover was already at half-mast, erection slowly filling and twitching against his thigh, pre-ejaculate beading delicately at the tip in a way that had him subconsciously licking his lips. Taeyong had come to learn that he rather liked using his mouth, though as tempting as it was he had other plans. They were sort of hard to forget.

“I remember the first day I saw you in the meeting room,” Jongin murmured breathlessly as he reached out to lazily curl fingers around his length, breath hitching with each gentle stroke. “You were— gods, you were so nervous, but you were so beautiful, even then. I felt so bad for wanting to bed Mark’s friend.”

“So I’m the temptress? You’re the one who wooed me with the meadow.” Taeyong twisted his wrist and smiled when hips bucked under his grip, seeking more. 

“I wanted your heart more than your body.” Oddly enough, that had Taeyong flushing far more than what he was currently doing had achieved; he quickly decided that Jongin was far too coherent. 

“You have both,” he breathed as he pulled his hand back despite the whine he got at the loss. Jongin could probably cut stone now, the head flushed almost purple and leaking profusely, though truthfully Taeyong felt like he probably wasn’t doing much better himself with the way his robe was tenting and barely preserving any sort of modesty. He only hesitated for a moment before pulling the sash undone, shoulders shifting as soft material fell down off his arms and pooled around his waist before he brushed it back and out of the way, allowing himself to be fully exposed. Rather than embarrassing, it was thrilling to see that the mere sight of him had Jongin’s cock leaking even more of that viscous fluid, pooling in the grooves of his abdomen. 

The elder made a move to reach out, but before he could Taeyong shifted forward and set a hand on his chest to keep him down, fringe falling into his eyes a little bit. “I’m taking care of you, remember? Let me serve you, your majesty.”

“You shouldn’t be able to say such lewd things with your face,” Jongin just groaned, forcing himself to lay back as Taeyong straddled him properly and produced a small vial of oil from gods knows where, those fingers of his glistening as he drizzled it like honey over his length and slicked him up — Taeyong knew the other was probably expecting him to prepare himself, since he’d turned the offer down, but instead he rose up on his knees and steadied the other’s turgid erection before moving to sink down.

“Yong—“ Jongin half shouted as he instantly grabbed his hips and stopped him before he could even be breached. Taeyong almost wanted to huff. “What are you thinking, you’re going to hurt yourself?” Taeyong just smiled and covered the hands on his hips with his own before he bore down regardless, head tipping back as the tip of Jongin’s cock slipped past his rim with minimal effort. The elder instantly released a choked out groan. “Gods, you’re already . . .”

“I told you I wanted to take care of you,” Taeyong hummed as though it was that simple, panting and forcing himself to only sink down perhaps an inch before he paused. Even with his careful preparation earlier and the lengths he’d gone to in order to make this easy, it was still a new sensation. _Intense_. His own fingers had nothing on the fullness he was experiencing already, feeling as though he was being speared open just from a little bit. Gods, he was almost worried if he’d done enough.

It didn’t hurt, though — it felt _good_ , to finally have that firm warmth nestled inside him, and even if it was a stretch with each inch he managed to work inside of him the better it felt, the more that buzzing rose in the air around him, the more his breathy little noises turned to proper moans and the more he watched Jongin fall apart. He knew it had to be almost painful for the other to be so patient as he took his time, but he didn’t so much as buck his hips, hands instead rubbing over his thighs and hips as they moved. It felt like forever before Taeyong was fully seated on the elder’s trembling thighs, his own also holding a small shake.

“We’ve corrupted you,” Jongin laughed, words trained and brows drawn together as he ever so slightly shifted his hips, and Taeyong instantly gasped, rocking his own down in response. “You’re— gods, definitely a temptress.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Taeyong moaned out, leaning forward to set his hands on Jongin’s chest instead, shamelessly kneading at firm muscle as he finally started to roll his hips in some sort of a rhythm, the movements shallow and jerky at first until he seemed to get the hang of it. It was harder than he’d expected to focus amongst the influx of all these new, overwhelming sensations.

“Can I—“

“ _Yes_ ,” he replied before Jongin could even ask, crying out loudly when hips snapped up to meet his own, arms wrapping around his body to hold him in place. It was . . . gods, it was so much, but it was so good; intimate not just physically but emotionally, because even as Jongin fucked up into him over and over and he tried to press back they never looked away from each other, not as much kissing but sharing the same breath, drinking down each other’s noises that filled the air. 

It was perfect.

Maybe some other day Taeyong would want to draw it out, but that day was not today. It felt like every single one of his nerves was standing on end, every sensation heightened beyond what he ever could’ve imagined, from the slick body underneath him to the heavy drag of the other’s erection inside him, those large hands palming at his ass almost greedily and tracing over the place where they met, skin flushed and pulled taught. 

“I love you so much,” Taeyong choked out, cheeks ruddy and eyes a little wet as he buried another moan in Jongin’s shoulder, heat cresting in his stomach. The mere friction of grinding against the other’s abdomen had been enough to have him spilling everywhere, and gods, that only made everything even more intense if that was even possible — almost too much really, but after he came Jongin seemed to speed up a little and lose his rhythm, grip tight and desperate before a hoarse cry pulled from his lips. 

Taeyong had never anticipated what it’d feel like to have that warmth fill him up, but he . . . well, he thought that perhaps he liked the sensation.

“I love you too, Yong,” Jongin managed after a few minutes, cock growing soft inside of him, yet they didn’t instantly pull apart; they just laid like that for a while. “I don’t know what we’d do without you. What _I’d_ do without you.”

Eventually Taeyong forced himself to ever so carefully sit up and roll off to the side, instantly wincing at that sudden sensation of being, well, empty, but he could only focus on it for a second before Jongin was drawing him close with no care for the mess they’d made, burying his face in his hair and wrapping him up in his arms. “I think I finally see what all the fuss is about,” Taeyong breathed quietly, face tucked into the crook of Jongin’s shoulder and eyes closed. 

“I— do you mean . . .”

“Mmm,” he hummed as he nuzzled in even closer. He felt warm, safe. Happy. It was so easy to forget about everything else like this. “It was perfect, Jongin. Thank you.”

“You should’ve told me it was your first time, I could’ve—“

“Get some sleep,” Taeyong just chuckled under his breath. “We both know I’ve done things, I just . . . it felt right, for it to be you.”

—

When Taeyong woke up, it was to fingers gently carding through his hair and to the feeling of eyes on him. He just laid there for a few moments and relished in the touch, leaning into it ever so slightly even, eyelashes fluttering even if they took a while to actually open, seconds more to actually focus on the man beside him, half covered by a sheet and watching him with such fondness that it made his heart soar. From where he laid he could see the open window on the far wall, a full, luminescent moon almost dead centre, like it was taunting him. A reminder. He knew he didn’t have much time.

Once his eyes opened that hand froze, like waiting for a scolding, but it never came.

Kai had obviously awoken before him, and Taeyong sort of felt terrible for forgetting when he’d drifted off what kind of scene he’d awake to — what he’d remember. It probably didn’t bother _him_ as much as it should’ve, but he should’ve been more considerate of both of the men that inhabited that body. Even so, Kai wasn’t pressed against him, wasn’t even trying anything. The blanket was even pulled up to his shoulders. He was just stroking his hair, or, rather, he had been. It was so painfully innocent. 

“Morning,” Taeyong mumbled, pressing his face into the pillow for a moment before he sat up and pulled some of the blanket with him to at least cover his chest. Kai seemed to grin at that, sitting up as well and letting the material pool at his waist; it seemed he’d already been up from the bed, because there was no cum caked on his stomach and he could see the waistband of some pants. Oh. 

“But it’s night time,” Kai hummed in a mimic of his words from the other night, eyes squeezing into crescents as he smiled. There was no mention of the bed or the robe on the ground or what he obviously could remember from Jongin, no taunting or teasing, not even a snide comment. Just perhaps a brief glance at his shoulder and throat, at the marks there. At his face. 

“It’ll technically be morning in less than an hour,” Taeyong just found himself chuckling softly, cheeks perhaps just a little pink as he glanced around. Gods, how had he been so stupid as to not bring a change of clothes? He sure as hell couldn’t just put that robe back on, not with what he needed to do. If he could get to the closet, he could probably use some of Jongin’s he supposed. The pink haired male shifted to wrap the blanket around himself so that he could get up, holding it carefully in place, but when he stood up he almost stumbled for a moment, cheeks flaring. _Oh._ In hindsight, he certainly should’ve accounted for . . . this. Jongin was sizeable, after all. 

“You should be resting,” Kai spoke up from behind him, but the words seemed genuine. “I can grab clothes, if you want them, I won’t look.”

“I want to take you somewhere,” Taeyong argued softly as he ignored the ache in his chest (and between his legs) to walk over to the closet and grab a few things. Damn Jongin for not having a screen in his room. “The forest, again. I have a surprise for you,” he explained as he chucked a shirt the other’s way. “Turn around for a minute.”

Kai complied without any complaints, but he could see the furrow between in his brows before he turned to pull the material over his head and wait. “I’m not complaining, it was nice, but you . . . are you sure?” In a way, Taeyong almost wished he wouldn’t skirt around the obvious issue of what’d happened — part of him wished the other would be crude or inconsiderate or _something_ , just to make this easier. 

“I’m sure. Promise.” Taeyong hesitated for a moment before dropping the blanket down to his feet and quickly shuffling into Jongin’s clothes, having to cinch the waist considerably so the pants would stay up, but it wasn’t too bad — he liked to think that it looked intentionally oversized, and with Jongin’s cologne still clinging to the material it was sort of nice. “Okay, you can turn back around now,” he hummed once he was decent, lacing up his shoes even with the way his thighs were aching, making a note to pass by the apothecary on the way out. It might do well to bring the dagger that Baekhyun had gifted him.

The forest was always beautiful, but at night it seemed to come alive — if Taeyong didn’t know what was coming, perhaps he could’ve savoured the way magic seemed to be filling the space around them. Somewhere between the castle and here he’d ended up with his hand curled around Kai’s to lead him alone, at first to make sure he didn’t wander, but now it was hard not to slow down so that the other could admire the fireflies floating in the air.It was likely the first time he’d seen them through his own eyes, and Taeyong felt like he deserve to see this. To savour it.

Taeyong found it hard to when the moon seemed to be leading him to the place he needed to be; he supposed that he’d expected it to be somewhere he’d never been, or maybe that it was all a trick, but it felt almost cruel when he stepped into an all too familiar meadow bathed in moonlight, a small river flowing through it that’d never been there. Of course. It was a magical fucking river, of course it’d appear _here_ of all places.

“I know this place,” he heard Kai speak up from beside him, voice sounding almost longing as that hand finally slipped from his own. “I . . .” Of course Kai knew this place from Jongin’s memories, of course he’d recognise it even now. “Why would you bring _me_ here?” He almost sounded sad. Taeyong couldn’t bring himself to answer right away, just swallowing thickly as he stared at the water perhaps fifteen feet away; he could _feel_ the energy crackling in the air, so raw and pure, so powerful. He knew Seungyoun hadn’t lied about the powers it held, because it seemed to be calling out to him, the energy so familiar because it was the purest form of what burned in his core.

“We’re going to take a swim,” Taeyong murmured softly as he took a step towards the river, but he didn’t touch his clothes, just reached out to Kai who stayed still and didn’t take his hand. His chest felt like it was caving in. For a few tense moments, he thought that the other wouldn’t take his hand, but eventually cold fingers slid between his own and Kai allowed himself to be led towards the water’s edge; if he knew the meadow, he probably knew this river had never been here. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Taeyong,” Kai managed as the water reached their ankles, something almost pained in his eyes. “It’s _okay_.” Taeyong hated that there was an understanding on his features like he somehow knew, like he understood, like it didn’t matter. The water reached his calves, but the water was so warm unlike the icy air around them, seeping into his skin and feeling almost comforting. Inviting. He wanted to sink into it. “You found a way, didn’t you?”

Taeyong paused at mid thigh, eyes widening ever so slightly as panic clawed it’s way up the back of his throat, but Kai just squeezed his hand, closing his eyes for a second and nodding. “Kai, I . . .” The taller male took one step forward, then another, keeping their hands linked and guiding them both out until the water swirled gently around their chests, moon reflected in the rippling space between them. Why wasn’t Kai arguing? Why wasn’t he fighting? Why did he look so accepting, like he’d known this was coming, like he was ready for it? “Stop, I don’t— it’s not like that—“

“ _Taeyong_ ,” Kai spoke, voice firm as he took his other hand too, brown eyes almost black in the low light, hair falling over his forehead. “I’m not a fool, I knew you could never just leave me here — you need _him_. You need the king, the good one. It’s fine, okay? I’m living on borrowed time, Yong, I have been since the moment you made me, and with what’s to come . . . maybe he’ll stand a chance, if I’m not here.” Taeyong’s heart felt like it was shattering, hands curling up in the other’s grips, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes burned. “Maybe it’s the price to pay for cheating fate, but maybe I can balance it out, right? And if not, I won’t be stealing away your time with him.”

“Kai, stop,” Taeyong managed, voice rough and a little choked. “I— gods, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. You’re going to,” Kai reassured as a cool hand slid up to cover his cheek. “You’ll be setting me free again, Taeyong; I can’t stay like this, living a half life, knowing what I’m doing, knowing that I can never have what I want. Let me try and be a decent person, for once.”

“You’re not a decent person,” Taeyong breathed, “you’re . . . you’re a wonderful person, Kai.” For a moment, it almost looked as though the other’s eyes had grown misty, but it was gone as quickly as he thought he’d seen it, instead replaced by such an intense warmth that he had trouble looking away. He didn’t.

“I want this, Taeyong, whatever it takes. _Let me go_.”

Taeyong wouldn’t cry — he refused to. Not because of his own fear of seeming weak or showing what he felt, but because he needed to be strong, not just for his own sake but more so for Kai. It didn’t erase the aching chasm that’d opened up where his heart was supposed to be, but for _him_ he managed the smallest of smiles, fingers reaching up to tenderly brush back his fringe. 

“I’ll never let go,” he murmured as he led them a little deeper, until the water lapped at his own shoulders, and he kept one hand in Kai’s even as he reached down to fish out the dagger tucked at his waist; he saw the way the other braced himself and closed his eyes, throat bobbing, but no strike ever came. Instead he shifted the blade in his grip to slice at the tip of his finger, wincing ever so slightly. It hurt, but it was overshadowed by other pain. “I’m not going to forget you, Kai,” Taeyong breathed out, reaching up to ever so gently draw a sigil over Kai’s forehead, crimson appearing almost black in the low light, tracing over skin until it was complete.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Lay back in the water, gently. I won’t let you sink.” Taeyong tried to keep his voice as even as possible despite how tight his throat was and how his words wanted to get caught there, guiding the other to slowly sink back into the water with his head by his chest, hands steadying him so he didn’t drift down and smoothing gently through his hair. Kai didn’t have a pulse, he never had, but he looked scared even though he was trying to hide it, one hand grasping at his arm like he was a child holding onto his mother’s dress. “Are—“

“I’m sure,” Kai interrupted softly, staring up at him; his eyes were so incredibly intense, even more so than usual, darting over his face like he was trying to commit every single detail to memory. “I . . . could you grant me one wish?” Taeyong swallowed thickly before he nodded, fingers caressing the other’s cheek. Kai hadn’t even asked him questions, hadn’t asked him how this would happen or what it’d feel like. If it’d hurt. Even now Taeyong could feel the power curling around them both and seeking out the _oddity_ , wanting to pull it under and erase it, but Taeyong held on, kept it at bay. 

“Of course, Kai.”

“Can you kiss me, when you do it?” Taeyong’s breath hitched, eyes widening. “I know it’s selfish, but I . . . I want to know what it feels like, for _me_ to kiss you, not him. I want you to be the last thing I have.”

Taeyong was admittedly silent for a few moments, emotions rising up in his chest that he could never hope to quell, and for a moment he almost lost it and let those tears fall, but the desperation on Kai’s features was what helped him keep that wall in place. Just barely. “That’s your wish?” A small nod, but that was answer enough. The pink haired male swallowed thickly before leaning down, watching as Kai seemed almost caught off guard by the fact he’d agreed, but it only took a second for a hand to cup his cheek as he paused just shy of the other’s face. “You were never _him_ , Kai, I never pretended you were,” he murmured in a tone that was barely even audible.

He sucked in a deep breath before ducking his head down that last inch and ever so gently pressing their lips together. Taeyong didn’t instantly pull away the moment he’d granted the wish, he just let those fingers graze over his cheek and gently moved his lips, feeling tears well even as his eyes were closed; after a moment, Kai seemed to try to hold him closer, but his grip was growing weaker, lips slower against his own but just as tender. “I’m here,” Taeyong whispered against his lips. “I’m not letting go.”

Kai had never felt alive, and really, he’d never been able to feel his energy as such, but he could feel the moment it left.

It felt the same as the moment that Jongin had died, and in the moment Taeyong lost all of his rational and sense — he let out a choked cry and tried to pull Kai up a bit more, reaching out with his own energy to try and pull him back, but nothing happened. 

Kai had always been cold, but now he was deathly still, eyes closed and a tear clinging to his lashes, others dripping down his cheeks that Taeyong realised were coming from himself, falling down onto the other’s skin. Gods, he— _no_ , what had he done? This was a mistake. “Kai,” he managed through sobs as he tried to shake him, but nothing happened. “No, no, come on, wake up. I take it back!” Only silence answered him. “I take it back!”

/ _“Those of fae blood can make one wish, if they bathe in it’s waters; only once in their lifetime, and it can never be undone. Choose wisely, Taeyong,” Seungyoun had warned./_

“I take it back,” Taeyong sobbed out, voice hoarse from shouting even as he hugged the other’s body closer and noted the warmth that slowly returned, something he’d never be able to associate with the man he’d just condemned to death. “I want him back.” Even as he pleaded, the pink haired male knew that it was useless — there was no taking back what he’d done. He’d asked, and the river had granted his wish, as he’d granted Kai’s. Jongin would be whole again.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed, body shaking even in the warmth of the water as he pressed his forehead to Jongin’s, tears staining the other’s sleeping features. 

/ _‘I want Jongin to be as he was before, alive and whole. I want Kai to fade, but it must be painless — I don’t want him to feel anything except warmth, except love — that’s my wish,’ Taeyong had thought to himself as his lips moved against Kai’s./_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“Now now, Taeyong, there was no need to call your mutt,” the man spoke, voice a little strained like he was trying to sound unbothered, but his anger and disgust was thinly veiled — his voice was dripping with an obvious venom, those eyes so cold as they stared him down, like he was the dirt underfoot. It wasn’t overly surprising given his own heritage, but it still made Taemin’s lips curl into a cruel sort of smirk./
> 
> as always I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> you can find me on twitter @peachxi1


	28. Part 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong struggles to come to terms with the consequences of his actions, but the others refuse to let him bare the burden alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really starting to heat up and we're nearing the final chapters of this story, or at least the first part of it! I'd say maybe five more? Don't worry though, I've already got plans for the sequel, and other works in the series if you'd be interested in that? Not just the main boys, but if anyone would like to have spin offs for other characters (such as jongdae, minseok and yixing) please let me know!
> 
> Again, I can't thank you all enough for the incredible amount of support this fic has already received! I can't believe it hasn't even been two months since I started writing this fic and sharing it with you all, and in that time I've received so much love from everyone. Almost four and a half thousand hits, like hell, I can't even comprehend that, but it means so much to me. ALW could never have become this big if I hadn't had so much encouragement early on ♡ even though I've only been able to post once or twice a week lately you've all been so understanding and I really do appreciate it.
> 
> You can find me on twitter @peachxi1 if you're interested in seeing visual stuff for the characters, extra scenes/excerpts and sneak peeks here and there, as well as me gushing about my babies
> 
> (also, really random, but I had someone ask me if Seungyoun is based on an idol and no, I literally just picked a random name hjfhjf. I didn't want to make anyone I adore the bad guy)

“Why are you crying?” A familiar voice spoke from behind where Taeyong was sitting on the grassy shore, soaked and shaking like a wet dog and still sobbing as he cradled Jongin close. Seungyoun. “You got what you desired, did you not?”

“It’s not that easy,” the pink haired male managed to breathe out, voice absolutely raw. His fingers were so tender as they caressed over Jongin’s face, and though he could practically feel the displeasure radiating from the figure he still didn’t turn to face him. Couldn’t. In a way, he supposed he was truly just terrified to let go — like doing so would mean he’d somehow lose Jongin, too.

“He was an abomination. He had to be erased—“

“He was still a person!” Taeyong bit back with such venom that it even surprised himself, eyes darting to the side and burning like a wildfire. “What do you want?”

“We made a deal, remember? I’ve come to collect.” He tensed a little at that, arms curling closer around the male in his arms. A deal was a deal, wasn’t it? He knew that Fae were held to them, just as demons were, just as their descendants were to a degree, people like him, but . . . what, now? He couldn’t just leave Jongin out here, unconscious. He’d freeze to death. Beyond that, it was inconceivable that Taeyong would ever part from his side in that moment, and he supposed to a degree that emotions _were_ clouding his judgement, making him more reckless. The Fae had once been seen as cunning folk, and for good reason.

“You can wait.”

Seungyoun’s eyebrow ticked, just the faintest of cracks to appear in an otherwise perfect facade. “And here I was thinking perhaps you lacked a backbone,” he hummed, as though it wasn’t a backhanded insult, hands folded over each other as he stood so still that it was impossibly not to realise he wasn’t human. “It cannot wait, Lee Taeyong, and you swore an oath — don’t you want to know about your mother? Your father?”

“I already know one of them was Fae, it doesn’t matter; the people who raised me were my parents.”

“One?” Why did he sound so amused, like Taeyong was a child who was lacking comprehension? “Do you really think I would go through so much effort for a half-breed? For someone who couldn’t fulfil the requirements?”

—

It was early hours of the morning, and as usual sleep was little more than a foolish hope for Taemin; he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d dozed for more than a few hours, and it was infuriating to no end that each night he felt that itch in his bones, the urge to wander down the hall and find someone to settle by. He’d always preferred to sleep alone, a habit from his youth — besides, he was never truly alone, not when he liked to steal through people’s dreams as he rested. Even a body like his required sleep, though. 

After hours of tracing the murals on the ceiling Taemin slipped off his mattress and sighed, eyes perfectly adjusted to the darkness of the room, meaning he didn’t so much as fumble as he navigated through it to open the large doors across from him, stepping out into the cool night air. Full moons were always an odd time, magically; they were a time when everything was heightened, when magic held some of it’s strongest potential, and as such it always had his blood singing. Sleep often evaded him, but trying to sleep on a full moon was like trying to milk a bull: fruitless. 

For a few moments he simply stared out at the city and the forest beyond, letting the energy in the air soak down into his skin, settling in his very core. Taemin let out a soft hum and rolled his neck, vertebrae cracking and golden eyes flickering shut before feathers rustled in the air. He couldn’t help but to groan. It’d been so long since he’d allowed himself to indulge like this allow his wings free, the large appendages a reassuring weight between his shoulder blades; they truly were glorious, dark enough to appear as shadowy voids, yet in the light the immaculate feathers shone like an oil slick, refracting numerous hues in a way that was truly magical. Perhaps in another world, they could’ve been something prideful.

Taemin didn’t hate his wings, not anymore. Not as he once had. They were infinitely helpful sometimes, and besides, in the end they truly were just his — and that was exactly it, they were his own, no matter his heritage. The faint scars hidden under the soft, downy feathers where the wings split from his back would be reminders of a time when that hadn’t been the case and he’d despised them with every inch of his being, where he’d wanted them gone. He’d been barely fifteen when he’d tried to remove them with a rusty knife in a barn he’d crept into for the night, cloth between his teeth to try and muffle his sobs, but he’d been too weak back then. These days, it wasn’t impossible, but he had no desire to be rid of them.

Besides, they were . . . after knowing what Ten had endured, Taemin supposed that he cherished them to a degree, and rather than hating them it was Ten who he’d occasionally let see them as the other seemed to find comfort in them. He’d tried to pretend it was for the younger’s sake, but truth be told the experience of having someone card their fingers through his feathers to nudge stray ones back into place, to care for him, it was . . . pleasant. He’d admit that much. Comforting in a way he wasn’t inclined to, usually. 

Taemin took a moment to stretch them out, muscles shifting after so long subdued, fluttering in the soft breeze until they’d reached their full wingspan. Hiding them wasn’t just for appearances, but because they were rather sizeable, each wing easily longer than he was tall from base to tip. They weren’t exactly convenient to walk around with.

Full moons were always intense, but tonight the energy in the air seemed to be heightened above what he was used to, enough to have the hair on his arms standing on end, feathers ruffling up a little as he looked around. There was a disturbance, somewhere, perhaps a warlock doing something they shouldn’t, but the signature was . . . different. Odd. Enough to pique his interest, at least.

It was barely a second later that he felt the surge, one strong enough to have him stumbling back a few feet, yet at the same time it seemed to be _pulling_ , like it was crying out for him, trying to coax him closer. This time it was easily recognisable — Taeyong.

There wasn’t as much as a moment’s hesitation before Taemin was launching himself off the balcony with little regard for any possible danger he was putting himself in; the warlock free fell for a long few seconds before those monoliths of wings caught the breeze and spread out, carrying him with practised ease as he followed that thread of magic. Truthfully, his mind was racing. Why was Taeyong out in the forest? What was wrong? Was he in danger? Was he _okay_? He’d seen the younger wander out there with Jongin’s little problem perhaps an hour and a half earlier, but that wasn’t unusual, he’d watched it happen a few times over the past week and had never intervened or followed. The most obvious explanation would be that this Kai had harmed him, but he had trouble believing that after he’d seen the way their problem followed at his heals like a fresh chick and dutifully followed his every word.

Taemin wasn’t sure he’d ever flown at such a speed before, but the sick feeling in his chest was enough to fuel him.

With a flutter of wings, he dropped down from the sky, landing easily on two feet between Taeyong and . . . oh. Taemin was sure he couldn’t be blamed for the obvious surprise that flashed across his features for a few seconds, feline eyes widening just barely before he steeled his features and flared his feathers out almost like a shield, the wind whipping around them. The elder at least took a moment to survey the situation — the man before him was undeniably Fae, his energy so strong that there was no questioning that he was the real deal, blood as pure as possible. He’d need to be careful. Behind him, Taeyong was crouched, pale and shivering, but his hands were crackling with energy, and there was an obvious scorch mark on the Fae’s otherwise pristine clothing, the smell of burning flesh. Just behind Taemin was _Jongin_ , unconscious but seemingly fine otherwise. He could hear his heartbeat, faint but there. Taemin’s blood boiled and his eyes snapped back to the figure in front of him, snow swirling around them in a violent flurry. 

“Now now, Taeyong, there was no need to call your _mutt,_ ” the man spoke, voice a little strained like he was trying to sound unbothered, but his anger and disgust was thinly veiled — his voice was dripping with an obvious venom, those eyes so cold as they stared him down, like he was the dirt underfoot. It wasn’t overly surprising given his own heritage, but it still made Taemin’s lips curl into a cruel sort of smirk.

“Don’t call him that!” Taeyong all but snarled from behind him, ducking under one wing and placing himself in front of the warlock like somehow he was going to be _his_ protector, a fire in his eyes that Taemin had never really seen burn so bright. There was so much emotion there that it was overwhelming, and if he hadn’t been prepared for it, when he projected his energy forward to try and wrap around him all that pain and confusion and anger was so intense that he probably would’ve faltered.

“It’s merely the truth. You shouldn’t be surrounding yourself with such _filth_ , it’s unbecoming of someone of your blood; I should’ve wiped them out when I had the chance. I would’ve if I’d know you’d grow so attached.” The man raised a hand up and placed it over his wound, palm glowing before he pulled back and the skin was unmarred despite the singed cloth around it. “I’ve tried to make this pleasant, Taeyong, but you’ve left me no choice. Come _home_.”

“I’m not one of you,” Taeyong bit out, hands curled into fists, and Taemin could feel the power beginning to swirl around him, perhaps fuelled by the full moon shining overhead like a silent observer. “I never will be. I don’t care what my parents or the seal or about a place I’ve never been to — I was born here, and I’ll die here.”

“That can be arranged.”

Taemin wasn’t aware that the feral noise that filled the air fell from his own lips as he took a step forward, though before he could even set his foot down he was crumpling down to the ground with a grunt, expression strained as he felt those tendrils prod against the walls in his mind, trying to break penetrate, trying to break him down.

“Stop it! Don’t touch him!”

“You have three days, Taeyong. If you don’t come to me, I’ll tear this place to the ground; one way or another, you’ll behave. Forever is an awfully long time, and you’ll come to realise that these things are _nothing_ , that you were foolish to see them as anything more than pests.”

Faintly, he heard Taeyong cry out and felt that energy spike, but a moment later it fell silent and the tendrils retreated, leaving them alone in the meadow. His little Fae was instantly falling down by his side and fumbling to try and check him over, hands lit like he was about to try and heal him, but Taemin just swallowed thickly and grabbed one of his hands to stop him. He was fine — he hadn’t been harmed physically, and the residual energy that’d been aiming to creep into his body would fade within a few hours. At worst, he’d have a headache.

Hell, he hadn’t felt power like that in a long time, and certainly not of Fae nature. 

“I’m fine,” he reassured as the other tried to apologise, eyes puffy and red even if his cheeks were dry, like he’d been crying. Taemin’s chest tightened and he reached out to graze his fingers over Taeyong’s cheekbone, brows furrowed. “Taeyong, what happened?” The pink haired male swallowed thickly and looked away, something pained and _guilty_ flashing across his features as he pulled away, moving over to where Jongin was laying and pointedly averting his gaze. No answer came. “ _Taeyong_. Talk to me.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“What is? I can’t help unless you tell me, kitten.” For a few moments it appeared as though his lover was going to ignore him again, but then he watched as Taeyong’s shoulders heaved with a trembling breath and misty eyes glanced back over.

“If we make another deal, I’ll tell you.”

—

The last thing that Baekhyun expected when he stepped into Taemin’s room in the morning was to find him sitting at the headboard with Taeyong’s head pillowed on his thigh, Jongin curled up there too and hugging his legs. For a moment, it actually appeared as though the other hadn’t noticed his presence, because that incredible fondness in his eyes as he stared at the pair didn’t fade; his fingers reached out to tenderly brush back a few strands of Jongin’s hair, lingering on his cheek. All he could do was stand and stare for a few moments, drinking in this rare moment like he was desperate, trying to commit each little nuance to his memory.

After a brief minute, the warlock seemed to recognise his presence and looked up, expression much more tamed, but still softer than usual.

“Is . . . is everything okay?” He asked tentatively. For one, he’d never seen Taemin let anyone sleep in his bed, though of course he’d heard about everything that’d occurred in it from Lucas while they’d been away. “Ten was all over the place last night and said something about the _energy_ being off, he seemed really worried.”

“There was an altercation in the forest,” Taemin admitted plainly, even as Baekhyun’s breath hitched. “No one was harmed, don’t worry — in fact, Jongin is Jongin again, completely. It’s a long story, one that everyone needs to hear; could you gather everyone for me?”

It was hard, to have to _wait_ , but Baekhyun could feel that this was obviously a rather serious conversation they needed to have, and so he’d reluctantly complied, his mind racing in the meantime and trying to formulate ideas of whatever could’ve happened. All he could truly do was hope that this wasn’t more bad news, because he . . . he could see the affect that it was having on everyone and Baekhyun hated knowing that he was helpless to do anything to fix it. Secrets could only get him so far. 

Baekhyun supposed he was sort of expecting all three of them to meet them in the main hall, but instead it was only Taemin who emerged, claiming that Taeyong and Jongin both needed their rest at the moment and that he wanted to discuss things with them — clear the air. It’d honestly felt rather ominous, which was perhaps why Mark clutched his hand a little tighter where he was by his left side, why they all sort of leant in closer to each other as Taemin sat at the head of the table again, relaxed in a way that made him hope.

“Taeyong is Fae.”

That made him pause for a second, brow furrowing as he cocked his head.

“Yeah, we know,” Lucas chuckled awkwardly, but Taemin just shook his head a little.

“No, he’s a _Fae_ — his parents both were.”

“That’s impossible,” Ten was the one to speak up, sounding confused in a way that certainly mirrored how the rest of them felt in the moment. “We’d be able to feel it.”

“If his nature wasn’t still suppressed, yes, but we already agreed there was a powerful seal involved; I’d say it was there to protect him, masquerade him as human, and it worked for a long time, but the night that he saved Mark it cracked. Just enough to let a bit through.”

“Enough to make him more than human,” Ten continued, like he was starting to piece it together. Baekhyun was still caught up on the revelation. He was used to weird, okay? One of his lovers was half demon, the other was even closer to that side than the other. One was cursed. One was, they’d thought, a witch. Mark was just, well, weird — but adorable. This was beyond all that. How could they not have known that Taeyong was quite literally the furthest thing from human, and hell, how had they even figured it out?

“You told me Jongin is himself again,” Baekhyun spoke up, garnering eyes on him. “What do you mean?”

“When the seal was damaged, it was enough for those like him, people who might have been looking, to find him — Jongin was never the target in the forest. Recently, Taeyong was approached by another Fae who offered him a deal, and he offered him a way to help Jongin, which he did, last night.”

“Why do I sense a but?” Mark murmured, expression set firm like he was bracing himself.

“Taeyong didn’t honour the bargain last night when the Fae called on him, and there was . . . he’s given Taeyong three days to surrender himself, or he alluded that he’d launch an assault.” Silence fell over the room, so thick that you could’ve heard a pin drop. Even those who held no magic knew the power of bargains. “We need to decide what to do.”

“We’re not letting him hand himself over,” Ten all but hissed, followed by a chorus of agreements, but Taemin just arched his brow and hummed.

“That wasn’t what I was talking about, but I agree; he’ll try to fight us on it, but handing him over isn’t an option. Just because this man is Fae doesn’t mean he’s decent in any regard. We _do_ have to consider the city though,” Taemin reasoned, holding up a hand to cut Lucas off before he could interrupt, “we have no chance of convincing Taeyong to listen if we’re putting the city at risk, which means we’re going to need help. Reinforcements.” His eyes flickered over to Baekhyun, and he instantly sat up straighter, listening intently. “We don’t know who we can trust — call only for those you’re sure of, Baekhyun.” Baekhyun nodded.

“We can reinforce the crypt,” Mark murmured quietly, obviously already trying to plan. “I mean, we can’t be too prepared, and if we let the people seek shelter it’ll be much safer in there — it’ll make it easer if we don’t need to worry about casualties."

“Wards,” Ten chimed, “lots of wards, and traps. I’ve got a few new tricks I’m dying to try out.” 

Rather surprisingly, Lucas was the one who stayed silent, expression almost solemn, like he was lost in thought; Baekhyun reached out to set a firm hand on his thigh and watched him shake it off, offering a small quirk of his lips. “We don’t have the most men, but the people love Taeyong — the knights we’ve been training will want to fight, especially if they know he’s involved."

“What’s troubling you?” Baekhyun still murmured softly, gaze imploring. Lucas pursed his lips and met his gaze, considering, before he sighed.

“Hyung said three days, right?” Taemin nodded. “That’s the eclipse. If we’re right by assuming the prophecy meant the solar eclipse, that’s _three days_ until it’s supposed to happen.” 

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Ten, can you come help me send off some fire messages?” Baekhyun asked as he rose from his seat. They didn’t have long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“What are we going to do with you, huh?” It was completely fond rather than exasperated, and it certainly had the desired effect of making Lucas smile again, but he was quickly wrapped up in long arms and drawn close. Even as he lightly batted at the other, chuckling and trying to get away, Lucas just hugged him and kissed his cheek.
> 
> “Love me,” Lucas teased in response, lips pulled into a wide grin that was almost too big for his face./
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	29. Part 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone starts preparing for the inevitable whilst still trying to come to terms with everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm so sorry that it's been a while, it's been a mess for me lately trying to sort out uni as they messed up my admission and put me in the wrong classes. Chaos, honestly.
> 
> Things are really going to start getting intense in the next few chapters, and there will be a lot of angst, but I promise that it'll be worth it!
> 
> You can find me on twitter @peachxi1

Frankly, Jongin didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to any of this, or what he was supposed to think — maybe if this had happened a month prior his reactions would’ve been much stronger, but in the grand scheme of things, was this really that inconceivable? They’d always known there was something different about Taeyong; anyone could sense it just after being in his presence for a few mere moments. He was rather remarkable. And Fae, apparently, a _true_ Fae. 

“I still don’t like that he made a bargain for me,” he admitted quietly where he was standing beside Ten, holding a wicker basket laden with various things that he, well, he had no idea what they were, just that they were obviously somewhat magical. Two days they had, now, and the younger male had been desperate flitting around the castle and city setting more traps than Jongin could ever hope to keep track of; it was Lucas who’d asked him to accompany Ten today, claiming that he was worried about Ten overworking himself. He could sort of see why, because it was starting to seem as though the dark haired male hadn’t slept much at all.

“As if any of us wouldn’t have done the same,” Ten scoffed slightly, pricking his finger on a small blade and drawing a rather intricate sigil by the main gate, fingers almost dancing over smooth stone, graceful and purposeful in their movements. It was a little enchanting to watch. “As if _you_ wouldn’t have done the same for any of _us_. I just hope he’s okay, he’s been . . .”

“He hasn’t been the same,” Jongin admitted, though none of them were completely certain of the reason. One would easily assume it was because he’d learnt the truth about his heritage, a big truth none of them had anticipated, but truthfully none of them actually knew what had happened that night. Jongin had been there, but he hadn’t been himself — thankfully something he’d no longer have to worry about, yet last night when he’d stirred during the night and pulled Taeyong closer the other had shied away, eyes shining with unshed tears. 

“He won’t even look at me, Ten.” The other male was silent for a moment as he finished up the sigil with a flourish, the mark shining before fading to black, before he brought the finger up to his lips to lick the small wound.

“Hyung, don’t take it personally, he’s just . . . I’m sure it’s a lot for him, okay? We don’t really know _how_ he fixed you, and . . .” He could see that Ten was hesitating.

“And what?”

“I know you don’t like him— for obvious reason,” Ten started, “and I wasn’t fond of him either, but he wasn’t _that bad_ , Jongin, just annoying. I think Taeyong felt responsible for him, since it was his magic that sort of brought him here, and he, well, he thought he was subtle, but he wasn’t really; Taeyong was fond of him. He’d sneak him out when he thought everyone was asleep and they’d gather herbs and things, just mundane little tasks, but Kai seemed to like it.” A pause. “Taeyong probably feels like he killed him.”

Jongin didn’t answer, not right away, he just averted his gaze down to the contents of the basket and let himself entertain Ten’s theory. Admittedly, after the first few times Taeyong had never seemed as tired and irritated afterwards, in fact he’d often seem happy. It was hard to fathom it, because Jongin had never had the pleasure of meeting his alter-ego, he’d only ever heard about him from the others, and a lot of it hadn’t been the most fond or pleasant. Besides, it was hard to sympathise with something that wore your face when you disappeared — it wasn’t like he’d slept when Kai emerged, he’d just been gone, and that’d been the worst part. There’d always be an element of resentment for that. 

It was hard to even think of _Kai_ (Jongin sort of hated that they’d named it at all) as a person in any sense.

But perhaps he had been to a degree, and if he had then, well, it was hard to be surprised that Taeyong had grown an attachment; he was one of the kindest and most compassionate people Jongin had ever had the pleasure of meeting, the sort that seemed to be able to befriend just about anyone regardless of their shortcomings. Someone who could sympathise with anyone, even that. 

Was it like killing someone? Kai had never been born, so really, could he be considered a person? Was that how Taeyong saw it? Maybe. That maybe was enough to make Jongin’s chest tighten, because if Taeyong felt like that . . . gods, he felt even worse. No wonder the other was having such a hard time, no wonder he was struggling to meet his gaze or talk to him. They’d shared the same face, after all. 

“I need to talk to him,” Jongin breathed, but before he could even take a step a hand was settling over his jaw, sharp eyes softening as he met their stare. 

“Jongin, he’s not going anywhere,” Ten reassured quietly, lips twitching. “Besides, he and Taemin are busy enchanting right now — help me finish up and then we’ll go find them, yeah?” Jongin almost pouted, though he’d never admit it, letting out a soft huff when nimble fingers smoothed over the groove between his eyebrows. It was hard to be patient with how little time it felt like he had, but even then, patience had never truly been his strong suit. He didn’t want to wait, but he knew Ten was right. Jongin mumbled his assent under his breath. “What was that, Nini? Do you want some milk?”

“I’m not a baby,” the king snorted softly, shaking off the other’s hand, but Ten just laughed and reached up to graze their lips together fondly. 

“Don’t mumble like one, then. I promise it’ll go quickly.”

“Mmm. If you overexert yourself then we’re heading back early.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Ten chuckled with a mock bow, ducking away from him before he could manage to get a good shove in. “Come on, we’ve got plenty more to get done today, and _you’ve_ got a basket to carry.”

—

“Mark?”

Mark forced his gaze up from where he was pouring over maps of the castle, a quill twirling in one hand and ink still fresh on the page; he’d been ridiculously busy since yesterday and the one way they’d been able to get him to rest was to suggest he mark down all the secret passages and tunnels he’d learnt as a child, just in case. He still had a prominent itch under his skin, an urge to do more, but he knew this was also important. If things did go to shit, a map like this would be more than useful — it could be crucial.

He’d been waiting on Lucas to report back with details on the crypt, but rather than Lucas it was Taemin who stood in the doorway, hip propped against the frame and eyes focused intently on him. It’d taken a ridiculously long time for Mark to be able to read the elder in any regard, and he still was no master at it, but he knew the warlock enough to be able to note the softness in his features, something that could almost be interpreted as concern.

“Mm?”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Of course,” Mark hummed without any hesitation, yet the moment that the elder cocked an eyebrow at him he knew he’d been caught out. Taemin pushed off the wooden frame and stepped forward to where he was hunched over the table, hand rubbing over his shoulder in a way that instinctively had his eyes fluttering closed a bit. 

“Don’t lie to your elders,” Taemin scolded without any heat to his tone, dragging a chair closer and sitting down closer than was necessary, guiding him to lean against his side so that long fingers could card through his hair, draw him away from his work. “I can feel your energy, remember? You won’t be of use to anyone if you can’t even stay up on two feet.” To an outsider, perhaps those words would sound harsh — hell, Mark could remember when Taemin had first joined their little group and no one had know how to take his words. Now he was able to read between the lines, recognise what he really meant. It wasn’t supposed to be a jab of any sort, it was concern, reasoning. Deep down, Mark knew that Taemin was right, because it was the same line of thinking he’d had when he’d told Baekhyun earlier not to push himself too much.

If something did happen and they’d already burnt themselves out then all the preparation would be for naught.

“I’m scared,” Mark admittedly quietly, words barely above a mumble as he put the quill down and rested his head on Taemin’s shoulder, eyes closing completely and throat bobbing. “I can’t lose any of you, and I can’t . . . I can’t afford to miss anything.”

“You don’t have to be strong for us, Mark. You’re allowed to feel,” Taemin reassured softly, and Mark couldn’t quite held the way he chuckled under his breath.

“Are you really my Taemin-hyung?”

“Quiet,” the elder huffed, but there was a small curve to his lips, a warmth to his voice even as he moved to ruffle Mark’s hair instead. “Don’t get used to it.” Taemin shifted in his seat and drew him closer with a hand on his jaw, though Mark didn’t open his eyes, just melting into the touch as plump lips pressed against his own, something gentle and tender; even for someone like him who had no inclination to magic, it wasn’t hard to feel that rush of energy and warmth that flowed into him. It was like days worth of rest in a few seconds, leaving him feeling buzzed and energised in a way he’d never really experienced. Oh. Mark leant forward into the kiss, wanting more, but instead Taemin pulled back and pressed another kiss to his forehead. 

“You’ll get some sleep tonight, Mark.” There was no room for discussion, and Mark just nodded his head a little dumbly, eyes finally cracking open again. “You have nothing to worry about, okay? Hyung will take care of everything.”

“Do I also get a kiss?” Lucas spoke up from the doorway, staring rather blatantly and holding a rather eccentric armful of scrolls, cobwebs stuck in his hair. Taemin just laughed from beside him and stroked his cheek before getting up, walking over to the taller male and weeding out the sticky strands so that he could flick them off onto the floor. Somehow he managed to make even that seem graceful. 

“You still have boundless energy,” he watched Taemin chide, but the other still leant in to grant Lucas his kiss, something rather chaste before he pulled back. “I better get back before Taeyong worries — both of you take it easy.”

“Yes, hyung,” they both chimed, pretty much in sync, but the elder just smiled before turning to leave the room. They sort of just stayed there in silence before Mark forced himself to clear his throat and sit up straighter, motioning for Lucas to take the previously occupied seat.

“How was it?”

“Terrible,” Lucas huffed with a pout. “I was neck deep in cobwebs, it was the worst— I’ve never seen spiders that big, Mark!” Mark couldn’t help the way his lips twitched a little, pressure building in his chest as he tried not to laugh at how serious the taller male seemed. There was never a boring moment when Lucas was around. “Other than that, I suppose it’ll work, I’ve already got people clearing it out as we speak; there’s a whole maze of . . .” Lucas’s brows furrowed before he pulled out a scroll and spread it out, searching for something before he huffed. “Catacombs? I think that’s how you say it. Either way, there’s a lot of space down there, enough to keep everyone safe for a while if it gets bad.”

Mark took a moment to consider the information before he nodded, looking back down at the scroll and taking in the sprawling depictions of tunnels and rooms. Maze was definitely an appropriate term. Well, at least he knew why he’d come across so many tunnels and such in his youth — they all seemed to be connected, an intricate spiderweb laying right beneath the whole city, from times that no one here ever remembered. Most of the castle maps didn’t even seem to acknowledge their existence. Mark had explored enough to know that some were caved in or unstable, but even if they could salvage half of this for the eclipse . . . it would put them as an unprecedented advantage, not just defensively but also offensively. One of the tunnels led right out into the forest after all. 

“How many men?” He hummed as he added a few notes to the side of it, marking the ones he knew were currently inaccessible. 

“I told them that anyone is free to take shelter if it comes to a battle, but most of them want to fight — maybe three hundred?” Three hundred. It wasn’t a lot, not by any means, but it wasn’t like there’d been able bodied soldiers here when they’d first arrived. Those three hundred were men that had volunteered to be trained and serve the king months ago, good men. They were hardly an army, but they were loyal, and Jongin had always said one loyal man was worth more than ten mercenaries. 

“Baekhyun said the northern kingdom will help; I don’t know how many yet, probably a few battalions. It’s still not much,” he huffed, twirling the quill around. “Did you have any problems?”

“Nah.”

“Your knuckles are bruised, though.” Lucas’s ears instantly went red and he looked away, turning his palms over to hide scuffed skin. He looked a little ashamed. Mark just sighed and set the quill down again so he could take the other’s hands in his own, flipping them back around so he could get a better look. Thankfully they were barely even skinned, but he’d still get a tincture off Taeyong later just in case. “What happened, Lucas?”

“I didn’t even mention Taeyong, and I don’t know how it even got out at all, but there’s rumours already that he’s involved,” Lucas mumbled reluctantly. Mark tensed a little. “No one _knows_ , but one of the men started making assumptions and saying things about him and I just . . .” Those hands curled into pale fists in his grip, and Mark squeezed gently before prying them apart, trying to get him to relax even as he could see that faint tremble in them. 

“I wouldn’t have hit him, Mark, I promise — I’m his commander, I wouldn’t just _hit him_ , but one of the younger boys told him to shut up and reminded him how much Taeyong has done for them and he broke his nose.”

“So you broke his?” Mark guessed, voice free of judgement as he brought the other’s hands up to kiss his knuckles. Lucas’s past wasn’t something the other had ever been overly open about, not completely, but they all knew enough — they’d never force him to relive painful memories just to sate their curiosity. Either way, he knew the motto that he’d been told Lucas had been brought up with: blood for blood. Lucas wasn’t _violent_ , but he had a pure heart, a strong moral compass, and he wouldn’t stand by when he saw injustice being served.

“Yeah,” Lucas admitted with a sigh. “He’ll probably have, uh, a sore face in general, but only because he kept trying to show off and fight me.”

“What are we going to do with you, huh?” It was completely fond rather than exasperated, and it certainly had the desired effect of making Lucas smile again, but he was quickly wrapped up in long arms and drawn close. Even as he lightly batted at the other, chuckling and trying to get away, Lucas just hugged him and kissed his cheek.

“Love me,” Lucas teased in response, lips pulled into a wide grin that was almost too big for his face.

—

“Yongie!” Ten found himself slurring as he fumbled to sit up a bit better, cheeks flushed from the few drinks he’d been coaxed into drinking, hands extended and grabbing aimlessly like a child as he tried to call the other over. They’d been gathered in here for a little while and had been waiting to start dinner, but they hadn’t really waited to break out the alcohol — they deserved a treat. It was why they’d settled in here rather than the main dining wall, sprawled around on cushions with a low table in the middle, sort of just lounging back. It’d taken more effort than he would’ve liked to keep Jongin waiting in here until Taemin and Taeyong were done for the day.

Ten had sat with the younger male for a while yesterday, but this was the first time he’d seen him up and around, and it was nice — he looked a little happier today, less . . . dull, he supposed. 

Taeyong followed the sound of his voice, and though he’d looked almost nervous when he first stepped into the room with Taemin, Ten watched the way his gaze instantly softened and he manoeuvred his way over to where he was. Ten was content to be a little selfish tonight; he quickly pulled Taeyong down to sit between him and Jongin, watching as Taemin settled on the other side. It felt so much better, now that all seven of them were gathered. Complete. 

“Are you drunk?” The other giggled, perhaps a little incredulous, but Ten just smiled and shook his head, fluffing up pale pink hair before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Not drunk, just enjoying himself,” Jongin spoke up in a warm timbre, obviously amused by the display. Correct, because it’d take a lot more than what he’d had to make him drunk by any means. He’d only had enough to make him relax and feel all fuzzy. 

Ten was certainly more than coherent enough to watch the way that Taeyong seemed to pause at the king’s voice, swallowing, but he didn’t pull away when Jongin hesitantly wrapped arms around his waist and buried his face into the nape of his neck. His own eyes softened and he reached out to take Taeyong’s hand, shuffling in closer so that they were all sort of sandwiched together. 

“Will you tell me about him sometime, Taeyong?” Even Ten, who’d known that their king had some things he wanted to say, had never expected him to ask something like that, and it was obvious no one else had either — a sort of silence fell over the room, something uncertain, but rather than closing up Taeyong shifted around just enough to look at Jongin, eyes wide and imploring. A moment later he smiled, and gods, it was so bright that it almost hurt, like staring up at the sun even though you knew you weren’t supposed to.

“You’d really want to know?” 

“He was important to you,” Jongin murmured, as thought it was that simple, “I want to know, too. “

“Not today,” Taeyong murmured, eyes a little misty; thankfully he didn’t seem to be as pained by it, though Ten knew that whatever had happened would take a long time for him to get over. Either way, they’d all be here for him. “But some day, yes. I’d love to tell you.”

“For now, all of you need to eat up,” Taemin spoke up tenderly, reaching past to caress Taeyong’s cheek, his other arm wrapped lazily around Baekhyun, who had Lucas sprawled out and half leaning against his chest, Mark lounging by their feet and already sneaking food off the table. “You need your energy.”

“So do you.” Ten’s gaze was far too knowing as he met the other’s eyes, arching his brow just a little as though daring the elder to argue, but Taemin just quirked his lips in a passive smirk. 

“Not tonight,” was all he answered. It wasn’t hard to tell that they weren’t talking about food, per se — Taemin of course needed to eat food to sustain himself, and he was already reaching for his fork, but not as much as them. He could go without proper sustenance for upwards of a week as long as he was, well, well fed; in a way Ten supposed it made sense that he’d wait until tomorrow night, so that if things did . . . if things were _bad_ , he’d be at full energy. The problem came that feeding Taemin tended to drain any of them to a degree, so Ten was starting to conclude that possibly have to be a group effort. 

“Don’t worry, Ten, we’ll take care of him eventually,” Baekhyun spoke up from across the pile of bodies and food, offering a small nod of affirmation. “Let’s just enjoy tonight.” It was unspoken, but not unheard, the ‘while we can’. 

“You always do,” Taemin mumbled from where Taeyong had insisted on feeding him a forkful of vegetables, hair ruffled and features scrunched up in a way that made him look almost younger, more _human_. It was starting to seem like perhaps a tiger could change it’s stripes, if it so desired. “Baekhyun is right, though, let’s relax and have a nice dinner together, hmm?”

“I can feel how much that hurt you to say, Min.” Jongin barely managed to get the words out, obviously struggling to hold back laughter. He only had a moment before Taemin was tugging at his ear; as much as Ten could see Taeyong trying to placate them a little it was no use, because the pair went about their playful bickering without any care, simply dragging him in closer. Ten leant back into the cushions behind him and smiled fondly as he watched them all, taking another slow sip of his drink. He wouldn’t trade this for anything, and he’d destroy anyone who tried to take it from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“Do you really think he’d lie to you?” A good question, one that made Baekhyun fall silent for a second as he considered it. Taeyong wasn’t a deceptive person, and he definitely wasn’t a good liar, but he was too kind for his own good, certainly self-sacrificing, a bit of a martyr even if he didn’t realise it. 
> 
> “To protect us? Probably,” Baekhyun admitted, smile more bittersweet. “I think we would all lie, if it meant sparing those we love more pain.” Jongdae just let out a soft hum like that and nodded in assent./
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!


	30. Part 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas reflects on the moments that have lead him to this moment whilst they prepare for whatever is to come. Taemin decides to push himself to make the most of the time they have and asks a question he'd never dared to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long, but I think I don't need to explain why things have been so crazy. Thankfully it's not too bad here in Australia compared to some countries but all my classes have had to be put online and we're still essentially in lockdown. I hope you're all staying safe and looking out for each other 
> 
> This is my longest chapter to date, and there is a lot of smut - with feelings, though, and a bit of angst, but good angst. Keep in mind new tags just in case!

“ _Excuse me?_ ” 

“Sorry, sir— there’s an army at the front gate bearing flags from—“

“—the northern kingdom, yes,” an all too familiar voice interjected as the courier tried to explain the situation, and Baekhyun’s eyes instantly snapped up, focusing on Jongdae who was grinning as he strode forward. He didn’t even want to know how he’d gotten past all the guards. “I don’t understand why everyone’s so worried, I tried to explain you invited us but they weren’t convinced.”

“Jongdae, what do you mean an _army?_ ” was all Baekhyun could choke out, confused, but the warlock just pulled him into a hug.

“You said there might be trouble, I figured you could use more than a few battalions,” Jongdae snorted and moved back to pat his shoulders, lips curled into that kittenish smirk. “Don’t worry, it was actually Min’s idea, he takes his alliances _very_ seriously, and besides, after he heard what happened with Myeonie . . . well.” An army. Gods. Baekhyun had barely dared to ask for anything in the letter even if their alliance with Minseok’s kingdom was their strongest currently, perhaps suggesting whatever they could spare, but instead they’d come with more than he ever could’ve dreamed of. Of course, they still had no idea what they might actually be facing, but an army . . . that could certainly tip the scales, and northerners were definitely incredible fighters.

“You’re crazy,” Baekhyun laughed, grinning from ear to ear as he shoved the other, but he quickly signalled for the courier to send the order, to let them through. It was never good to leave a king waiting after all. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are, Jongdae — did Yixing come as well?”

“Of course.” Baekhyun wasn’t surprised given that the pair never seemed to be separated, but he hadn’t wanted to assume; it was definitely good, though, because he was probably the only one here who’d know anything helpful about Fae. “Now come on, I want to go and say hello to everyone.”

“Don’t you want to wait for the others?”

“They’ll catch up,” Jongdae just hummed, practically dragging him alone since he had a decent idea of where to go, asking questions the entire way, not just about the situation but about Taeyong, all of them. “How has he been?”

“Which one?”

“I mean, let’s start with Jongin, I suppose. He seemed to be taking it far too well.” Baekhyun snorted softly at that, shaking his head as they walked up through the main hall, passing old paintings of the royal family, millennia of history. 

“It’s been rough. Everyone has been coping in their own way and we’ve been . . . Jongin has been so sure he’s going to die that it definitely made things a bit tense, but we’re working on it. He’s had Taeyong to focus on the last few days which has really helped, and Taemin’s been oddly quiet about it all. Taeyong, on the other hand . . . I know he’s been through a lot, but it still feels like there’s something about that night he isn’t telling us.”

“Do you really think he’d lie to you?” A good question, one that made Baekhyun fall silent for a second as he considered it. Taeyong wasn’t a deceptive person, and he definitely wasn’t a good liar, but he was too kind for his own good, certainly self-sacrificing, a bit of a martyr even if he didn’t realise it. 

“To protect us? Probably,” Baekhyun admitted, smile more bittersweet. “I think we would all lie, if it meant sparing those we love more pain.” Jongdae just let out a soft hum like that and nodded in assent. 

“Trust him,” Jongdae finally suggested. “He’s a good kid, and he’s smart — if he is hiding something, all you can do is be there for him.” The warlock smiled and set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently before they kept walking, nearing the staircase down to the crypt; that was where everyone had been primarily working this morning, trying to prepare it just in case they were unlucky enough to deal with a siege. Maybe this was all overkill and nothing would happen, but there was no such think as too prepared. Setting wards, adding supports, clearing tunnels — there was a lot to do.

“Also, uh, I don’t think anything will happen,” his guest chuckled almost nervously, “but it might be a good idea to keep Min and your Taemin as separate as possible again. He still holds a bit of a grudge after, you know.” After they’d tortured Jongdae within an inch of his life? Yeah, that was completely understandable. 

“I didn’t know we had guests,” a voice called up from the bottom of the steps, two landings below them; Mark. “Is this why Lucas got called off?”

“Probably,” Baekhyun mused, descending a bit faster than Jongdae and slipping ahead so that he could reach the younger male first, wiping back some of the dark hair plastered to the archer’s forehead and handing over the bottle of water he’d gone to fetch. It wasn’t so much hot down in the crypt as it was humid, air stale after years of being sealed off, muggy enough that it clung to your skin and made you sweat after after a few steps, a cloying sort of feeling that he certainly wasn’t fond of. “You’ll be pleased to know we have, what, another . . .”

“Around eight thousand men,” Jongdae hummed nonchalantly, as though it were some small sum. “We would’ve brought more, but you didn’t give us much notice and it’s not easy to get an army here.”

“How did you? You should’ve had to pass through the range and it’s only been two days—“

“I’m not completely helpless, Baekhyun, have some faith; Yixing and I managed to warp us part of the way, though admittedly it did drain us a bit. We’ve never moved so many people at once.”

“We appreciate it,” Mark spoke up softly, shoulders more relaxed. “We need all the help we can get and hyung trusts you — that’s enough for me.”

—

In a lot of ways, Lucas had grown up in a place that was almost paradoxical to here. He’d grown up surrounded by magic, drowning in it, really, but he’d been the odd one out for being unable to harness it the way he supposed to. Here, male heirs were favoured, but it’d been very, very different in Weishen House; the moment he’d been born and had been announced as a baby boy the people had _mourned._ In general, a female heir was favourable within his culture, it was just the way things were, and frankly Lucas had thought it was a good idea. It was a good system. It was just unfortunate that his family had been . . . well.

Obviously Lucas couldn’t remember the times when he was a baby, nor when he was really young, but he’d grown up hearing whispers in the halls, gossip here and there, and over time he’d come to learn how to seperate mere rumours from the truth, no matter how some of the others had tried to shield him from it. The midwives had offered to get rid of him the moment he’d been born, but his mother had refused and held him close to her breast instead, claiming that he was her son, that he was all she had left of his father — that she’d raise him regardless. 

The first two years of his life had been good, he supposed, even if all he could remember was traces of floral perfume and golden hair, vestiges of the woman who’d loved him with all her heart. His mother. Until the day he’d left there’d always been whispers that it was his fault that she was gone; that somehow little baby Yukhei had been the cause for her demise.

That he should never have been let live.

Once his mother was gone, things had changed. Lucas had no siblings, not blood siblings at least, but he’d grown up surrounded by brothers who’d taken him into their fold, who’d stood by him no matter the curse flowing through his veins; perhaps they all came from different blood, but they’d been his family back then. When the other child would call him names, _that_ name, Kun would tell them off and wipe away his tears, and Sicheng would sneak thistles into their sheets later on in the night; Kunhang and YangYang would rope him into their games while Dejun watched on with fond eyes and made sure they didn’t get into trouble.

“Girls are gross,” Sicheng would snort whenever he lamented over the fact that everyone would’ve been happier if he’d just been a girl — that he wouldn’t have been _this_. Lucas had always laughed, eyes sparkling at their little joke. “Trust me.”

It’d still taken a very long time for him to realise that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be able to satisfy them — that they’d always see him as a disgrace, someone to hide their children from, someone to shun. He was an abomination.

_/My darling Yukhei, I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did; when you’re old enough, I want you to follow your dreams and go wherever the wind takes you, somewhere far away from here, somewhere where you’ll be loved and cherished. Where people will realise just how special you are/._

Lucas hadn’t wanted to live with any regrets, so he . . . he’d left, in the end. Kun had snuck him out in the early hours of the night when the stars were still twinkling in the sky, had placed a pack in his hands and told him to never look back.

“I’m scared, gege,” he’d whispered, still but a boy at the tender age of fifteen. “I don’t want to leave you and the others.”

“We’ll meet again one day, Yukhei, I’m sure of it.” Kun had wiped his tears away tenderly and ruffled his hair, making sure his cloak was wrapped around him tightly and that he had anything before he’d pulled back, his own eyes misty. “Be safe.”

Anywhere would be safer for him than Weishen House.

Over time, Lucas had come to realise that wasn’t necessarily the case — that people didn’t need a reason to hate him, that even as a stranger people would laugh and shove, that they had no qualms with picking on a young boy travelling alone, but he’d also learnt to defend himself. Then . . . well, he’d met Ten. Ten, who was so beautiful and so strong, who’d held an energy that was so familiar to what he remembered from home; no matter the pain he’d endured, Lucas had missed it, had missed them. Ten had given him things that he’d never even dreamed would be possible for him.

He’d met the others, too, and no matter how hard it was at first, how different, slowly he’d come to understand what his mother had talked about in that letter that she’d left him all those years ago.

_/When you find love, my little Yukhei, hold onto it with both hands and never let go./_

Lucas didn’t want to live with any regrets, and no matter what it took he wasn’t going to let this slip through his grasp, even if it meant he had to be something he’d run from his entire life.

“Are you still sure about it, Lucas?” Ten asked quietly from where he was setting up more wards down in the crypt, standing perhaps two feet away and watching him even as his hands moved. Lucas just nodded. “There’s nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?”

“No, there isn’t.”

“What if I refuse?” That made Lucas pause for just a second, hands tightening around the wooden beam he’d been steadying with his hands, and the edges began to splinter ever so slightly before he relaxed, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. A small, private smile curled across his lips.

“You won’t,” he murmured, only feeling a little bit guilty for the position he’d put Ten into. Deep down, he’d known that one day it would come to this. “You’d never take that choice away from me.”

“Maybe I would,” Ten bit out, but Lucas could hear that faint tremble in his voice, observed how his movements grew more stiff as he finished off the ward with a little flourish and turned his face away. “For your own good.” Lucas let out a soft sigh and knocked the beam into place, making sure it was supporting that section of the roof properly before he shuffled over to where the other was standing and slid an arm around his waist, other hadn’t moving up to cover his jaw and cheek, forcing Ten to meet his gaze even as he actively attempted to evade it. 

“Ten,” he murmured, but the other still looked to the side instead. “Ten,” Lucas implored again, a little softer. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who never wanted to do the seal in the first place — you believed in me, that I could control it,” he spoke, barely above a whisper, and Ten finally looked back at him, eyes shining a little in the light of the lantern. “Don’t you want to be right?”

Ten scoffed softly, setting hands on his chest. “I’m always right.”

“If it comes to it, and it might not, I need you to do this for me, yeah? I can’t run my entire life, and besides, if . . . if I _can’t_ , then I know you’ll be there,” he managed even with the smile, voice a little thick.

“I told you, I probably won’t be able to put it back, Xuxi—“

“I know. I mean, you know,” he continued, trying to convey his meaning with his eyes, but it still took a few moments; when Ten seemed to understand his eyes flew open with something almost furious, shoving him back.

“If you tell me to kill you, _Wong Yukhei_ ,” Ten hissed as he switched into Lucas’s native tongue,” _I swear to whatever gods there are that I’ll . . . you can’t ask me to do that! How could I— do you really thing I could be capable of that?_ ”

“ _I just mean, if it’s that bad, Ten, and it can’t be fixed, if I’m hurting people, I trust you to take care of me_.”

“Is everything okay?” A voice interjected, and Lucas instantly realised it as Taeyong. There was a tense second for a second as Ten stared him down, but then the other relaxed a little.

“ _If you ever refer to yourself like some wild dog to be put down again, I’ll castrate you like one.”_ Ten’s tone was saccharine, but before Lucas could react he was back to smiling and reaching out to tug Taeyong in close, instantly stealing a kiss and asking about how things were going with his enchantments. He sort of cursed himself for the way that heat pooled in his stomach. That shouldn’t have been as . . . whatever the hell it _was_ as it had been. Gods.

—

“Xing!” Taeyong hadn’t been able to help the way his face had lit up when he’d caught sight of the older male, setting the book in his hands down and all but bolting over to throw his arms around the other, pure, unadulterated joy rising in his chest. After being surrounded by such cloying, dark magic it was such a relief to be able to soak up those warm, reassuring waves of energy that Yixing always seemed to emanate. This felt far more like family than someone like Seungyoun could ever offer, even if Yixing had diluted blood; it didn’t make him less than in any regard. 

“Taeyong,” the other hummed out with a soft chuckle and wrapped his arms around him in response, ruffling his hair. “It’s good to see you again — I heard you’ve got some news for me?” Taeyong squirmed a little at that, not willing to pull back, but it just evoked more of that soft laughter. “Don’t worry, I already know; I’d be lying if I said I was surprised.”

“But I’m not strong,” Taeyong huffed, reluctantly shuffling back just a foot so that he could look up at the other, expression pinched. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“Taeyong,” Yixing chided softly, lips curling into a grin that deepened his dimples, “you’re already strong — if you’re talking about magic . . . think of it this way: you’ve only recently started to cultivate your powers in the past few months, so in that sense, your abilities should be more like that of a child. You’re already progressing so much faster than I’ve seen anyone do, and you’re only going to get better.”

Logically, Taeyong knew that was reasonable — he knew that Fae lived for a long time, something he hadn’t even had a moment to really think about so far, and he knew that he couldn’t learn everything overnight. He hadn’t grown up nurturing and cultivating his abilities, so he was very, very behind; of course he wouldn’t be as strong as someone like Seungyoun yet, especially since he didn’t even know how old the other Fae was. The fact he’d managed to land anything on the other at all was likely an achievement. 

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I know, I just . . .”

“Want more,” Yixing finished knowingly. “I understand, Taeyong, trust me. You’ll get there one day, and you won’t be alone.” No, he wouldn’t be, would he? Taeyong couldn’t help the way his lips twitched at that, smiling despite everything. 

“Thank you for coming,” he murmured before turning just enough to look over to Minseok — the king was dressed up today, no doubt due to the fact he’d been travelling with his men, though despite the fact he’d always seemed rather cold at first Taeyong had come to recognise that wasn’t necessary accurate. Not cold, just guarded around most, save for his witch and warlock. “You too, your majesty, I really can’t thank you enough.”

“There’s no need,” the king reassured quietly, and it was almost a smile that the corners of his lips were tugged into, something that broke through the cool facade. “We’re allies, and besides, they’d never let me live it down if something happened to any of you, even—“

“Min.” Yixing had cut him off with a look that was equally warning and pleading, but the king just huffed and closed his mouth, relenting. Taeyong had a feeling he knew exactly who they’d been talking about, and he . . . well, he couldn’t be _angry_. They didn’t know Taemin like he did, and hell, if it was one of them that’d hurt someone he loved . . . he could understand it. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to be civil if the situation was reversed. 

“It’s fine, Xing,” the pink haired male reassured as he broke away, noting that they had more guests approaching; Jongin, Baekhyun, and Jongdae, of course. No doubt they had planning to discuss, and when it came to infantry and politics and those sorts of things Taeyong still wasn’t overly well versed, or helpful, so he knew he’d have to leave them to it. “I’ll come find you later, if that’s okay, I’ve just got some questions.”

“Of course.”

—

“So, can I take off my clothes now?” Lucas hummed as Taemin stepped into the room, reaching out to close the door behind him and turning his gaze back to the small group gathered. He was the last one in, and ideally no one would be leaving tonight. 

“Lucas,” Baekhyun scolded softly and tugged on his ear, but Taemin’s lips just twitched a little. He took his time in walking over to the dresser to his right, watching them through the mirror as he carefully removed his rings, then the cuffs on his ears, then the bracelet on his wrist that Jongin had gifted him all those months ago. He could _feel_ them all watching and waiting but he still didn’t rush.

“If you want,” he offered casually, turning on his heel and propping his hip back against the counter. Truly, this wasn’t that big of a deal — they’d all been in the same room before, all slept with each other whether privately or with someone else as an audience, but this time there was a new addition that certainly wasn’t used to their . . . well, their fun. Even now he could see the way that Taeyong was shifting a little where he was seated on the edge of the bed, looking just a little nervous. Confused, even. Taemin could still see the edge of anticipation dancing around him, though — could _feel_ it.

“Wait, really?” Mark spoke up from beside the pink haired male, eyes almost adorable in the way they were much wider than usual. “Are we . . .”

“Hyung needs to feed, right?” Taemin’s eyes flickered over to Ten who was already watching him, eyeliner still smudged around his eyes from the dinner they’d had with their guests only an hour and a bit prior, before Taemin had whispered in their ears to meet in his room afterwards. “If he takes a little from all of us, we don’t have to worry about crashing afterwards.”

“Partly,” he admitted. “Perhaps I just wanted to spend time with you all.” That had Jongin chuckling softly, eyes shifting into half crescents.

“Cute.”

Taemin knew that he wasn’t the best at this whole expression thing, okay? He never had been, not in the way his lovers were, or perhaps it was because he wasn’t as good at the whole _human_ expression thing. People whispered he had a silver tongue and it was well known he was a master with words, but when it came to himself, to letting that mask slip free from his fingers and baring himself to others, the real him, things tended to become a lot harder. He liked his privacy, liked peace and quiet sometimes, and for nearly his whole life he’d preferred to sleep alone — he still did. Sometimes.

Not tonight.

With the knowledge of what was supposed to happen tomorrow during the solar eclipse, Taemin couldn’t let himself pass on this opportunity; he was going to be honest, was going to embrace this whilst he could and . . . well, if he couldn’t say it, he was going to show them how he felt. 

“First of all, anyone can leave at any time. Anyone can stop,” Taemin insisted as he pushed off the dresser and slowly stepped over towards the bed, pausing perhaps a foot away and letting his eyes pointedly settle on Taeyong. They all knew this, all save for one. “You don’t have to do anything — even just being here, it’s enough to help.” Sex wasn’t necessary by any meansgiven that he fed on lust and desire rather than the energy of the act itself, in fact he rarely found himself actively involved in everything that happened, and even tonight he was debating what he was actually going to do, how far he was going to do. Part of him just wanted to savour the moment.

“Second of all,” he mused, eyes flickering over to where Baekhyun already had fingers carding through Jongin’s hair, standing just behind where the king was sat on the sheets, all the eyes in the room on him, “just relax.” Despite how tempted Taemin was to already reach out he instead moved past everyone to set a knee on the bed and crawl up, not even discarding any clothes as he settled back against the headboard with a pillow nestled in the crook of his back, one leg propped over the other. His bed was unnecessarily large, really, but it came in handy for nights like these. They’d all fit.

It was always a little awkward, even after all this time.

Baekhyun was the one to break that heaviness in the air, the first to make a move — his fingers tightened a little in Jongin’s hair and he leant against the mattress so he could get closer and steal a kiss from their king, licking into his mouth without any hesitation and chuckling when only a moment later Lucas stepped up behind him to run hands down his sides. Taemin’s lips twitched as he observed; there was already a buzz starting to form in the space around them, a steady hum that wrapped around his body, teasing, tempting him. A promise of what was to come.

To his left, Ten reached out and slid a hand up Mark’s thigh, nails dragging over clothed skin as his other beckoned Taeyong in. It was impossible for Taemin not to notice just how much more potent everything already was. It was already more than enough to have heat flowing through his body and he knew it wasn’t just a matter of them all being here, of that collective power; the last time he’d felt this was all those months ago when Taeyong had first come to him asking to strike a bargain.

Now that they knew Taeyong’s true heritage, it made sense — he was pure, raw, unfiltered energy, even now.

Despite the danger hanging above their heads and the fear of what they may face tomorrow, in this moment at least, they could lose themselves in each other, in promised of fingers ghosting over exposed skin and wet, open mouthed kisses that followed in their wake, of gazes filled with not just lust but love, something genuine and unwavering that’d drawn them all together, to this one place, to this one moment in time. Perhaps Taemin’s heart didn’t beat much, but when it did, that uneven staccato was a melody reserved solely for them.

Taemin had told himself that he’d never let himself be weakened by his human blood, even if as a child he’d been mortified by the fact he was anything but — in a better world, perhaps he could’ve stayed like that, innocent and naive, but alas, this world was far from perfect. No matter how _good_ he’d tried to be, people would find a reason to fear and target him. It was a harsh winter and their crops died? Had to be a curse. Their daughter whom he’d never met had fallen in? Surely it was the work of the of dark magic. He’d learnt to close off his heart and build barriers that no one would ever dare try to break, had learnt to be _more_. He’d told himself he’d never let anyone make him weak again.

He knew he wasn’t human, he never had been, even if there’d been times in his life when he’d wished for nothing more than to be completely ordinary. He didn’t know if he felt the same as humans did, if he even knew what it truly was to be any of the things they described. Was a warmth in his chest really equal to the joy he’d see coursing through them at times, was the fluttering in his stomach even remotely comparable to the way they loved so completely, with every inch of their being?

Taeyong had once asked him whether it bothered him, the idea that maybe he didn’t know what it truly meant to love someone. He’d thought long and hard about it.

“Hyung?” A voice hummed like the flutter of a moth’s wings, a weight settling on his thigh. Taemin’s eyes flickered open and took a few seconds to actually focus on the figure before him; Taeyong looked like a dream, there, perched half in his lap and looking at him with a soft smile, fingers ever so gently settling on his chest just above where his heart was. The light from the collection of candles he’d lit flickered warmly over pale skin that was littered with small hints of moisture, no doubt from wandering mouths and hands, his lips swollen and pinker than usual, hair ruffled in every which way. 

“Taemin likes to watch,” Ten spoke up as he settled behind Taeyong, arms wrapping around his waist as his pointed chin settled on his shoulder, that eyeliner smudged but only adding to his look. “Usually we don’t get to touch him.” Taemin furrowed his brows just a little at that. The words didn’t sound accusing by any means, but he still didn’t like the sound of it — he didn’t shun them, on nights like these, or any nights. Perhaps he did like to sleep alone, and perhaps he did often just watch, or touch them, but he . . . it often became too much. Feeding only heightened natural sensitivity, physically and spiritually, and especially with all of them here he knew it’d be overwhelming. He was content to watch and soak up that love.

“Oh,” he watched Taeyong breathe out, looking almost disappointed before those hands wandered. Ten looked far too smug as fingers rolled over perk, pink nipples, rubbing at the soft skin until they pebbled and he could tease them relentlessly; the other trailed lower, scratching over the plains of his stomach and relishing in the way muscles twitched beneath his touch before curling around the base of his cock and giving a slow, leisurely pump. Taeyong was already leaking enough that there was no need to reach for the vial of oil laying on the bed, already partially empty.

“Usually,” Taemin found himself repeating, voice a little lower as his tongue swiped over his lip. How many times had he dreamt of this, of allowing himself to reach out, of having Taeyong within his grasp? “There is no usually, not anymore — you can always touch me.” On the off chance that it was too much, he’d simply open his mouth, but he was sicking of missing out.

“Really?” A deeper voice hummed from his side. Jongin. The king’s skin was already glistening in the light, hair brushed back off his forehead and eyes dark as he practically crawled forward, breaking away from where he’d been stealing the gasps from Baekhyun’s mouth, dragging a hand up his other thigh. Taeyong was watching them both, writhing under Ten’s ministrations, and it took a lewd noise for Taemin to realise Ten hadn’t wasted any time; the knowledge that he was buried inside of Taeyong only stoked the fire in his stomach, the tent in his pants more prominent than he’d care to admit. Jongin had no problem inching towards it, full lips curled into a playful little grin. 

“Desperate tonight, are we?” Taemin teased softly, threading his fingers through Jongin’s hair as everyone shifted a little to come closer, gravitating up towards where he was situated.

“For you? Always.” Those words were nowhere near as teasing, and Taemin . . . gods, hearts were pesky things, weren’t they? He tightened his grip in the other’s hair and guided him up into a slow kiss. Taemin could still remember the first time they’d kissed which had been, coincidentally, weeks after the first time the tension between them had finally boiled over. He’d seen Jongin’s body more times than he could count before he’d ever found himself growing weak, had explored every inch of him and brought the then prince pleasures he’d never known before he’d found himself leaning in to press their lips together. It was never supposed to be like this. He was never supposed to _love_ them.

“We’re supposed to be taking care of you tonight, hyung,” Lucas breathed out as he weaselled his way in as well, running hands down Jongin’s toned back and settling just above the firm muscles of his ass which earned an appreciative hum before he was reaching around to try and pluck at Taemin’s clothes. All the elder could do was let out a soft chuckle, breaking the kiss with Jongin.

“It’s my job to take care of you lot,” he snorted, but Mark cut him off by sliding around to the side and sliding his tongue into his mouth. It was cramped and almost too much but . . . in a good way. Every time they touched him he couldn’t help the way he drew as much energy forward as he could, letting it fill him, replacing it with his own in a bastardised sort of exchange — it gave them a temporary high, but in the long run it was no substitute for their own, for real life. 

“Not tonight,” Mark murmured against his lips, joining Lucas in the effort of peeling away his shirt as they fumbled to undo buttons, shoving it off to the side with little to no care. Taemin couldn’t help the way his body instinctively tensed the moment fingers ghosted over his chest, muscles contracting, but then Jongin was shuffling back a little and it was Taeyong who wormed his way forward. He was flushed, thighs slick with oil, but the look painted across his features was something soft and understanding as he settled at his side and pressed a few tender kisses to his shoulder. Taemin wasn’t oblivious to the fact the other was using his own abilities to soothe him, but he didn’t fight it. He embraced it instead, relaxing under the touch and letting his eyelashes flutter. It felt good. 

“It’s just us,” Taeyong breathed against the shell of his ear, hand splayed over the left side of his chest, body pressed against his side in a way that the pink haired male probably would’ve been mortified by a few months ago. “Let’s just . . . let’s be ourselves.” Taemin turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse at the younger male and noted the way he was looking at Ten who was kneeling but a few feet away, languidly stroking himself but seeming rather contemplative. After a moment he nodded, like there’d been a question in those words, and he watched as the air shimmed around the other before the illusion he always held drifted away. Ten rarely let it fall, even less so in the bedroom. No matter how much they whispered praise, the other warlock would wrinkle his nose and claim his scars were unsightly. Taemin had always though they were incredibly beautiful.

_Ourselves_.

Oh, so maybe it had been a question of sorts. The moment Taeyong glanced back to him he knew he’d read the meaning right, because the other male reached up to brush fingers over his brow, looking pointedly into his eyes before he let them take on their natural form. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem satisfied by that.

Lucas and Mark had gotten to his pants, but Mark was struggling to undo the laces there, probably due to the fact that Jongin was seated behind him and watching with obvious interest as he worked two fingers inside the younger male, taking his sweet time. 

“Here,” Taeyong chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to card fingers back through his own hair, rolling his shoulders a little — Taemin was used to the rush he got from experiencing the other’s magic, but in this setting, in this moment, he couldn’t help the way he moaned out loud, his free fingers tangling into Lucas’s hair and grinding against his hand. Taeyong hadn’t even _touched_ him, he was just . . . _oh_. Taemin watched as those soft pink strands slowly started to fade, returning back to that stunning silver-white that they’d been beforehand. So that was what he meant by themselves. Their _natural_ forms, for lack of a better word.

Taemin’s eyes widened just a little, heart hammering, but there was no pressure, no expectations in the other’s gaze, just tender understanding and patience. Lucas whined, having just worked his pants down to his thighs, when he nudged him back a little, rolling his shoulders. He didn’t want to admit he was nervous, but, well, he was. They all knew about the wings, had seen them, but never up close like they were about to, and hell, he’d definitely never let anyone really touch them, save for Ten, and Taeyong briefly that night. A low hum filled the air followed by a loud rustle, and then black feathers seemed to explode from under his skin, large wings unfurling and spilling into the space behind him.

It made him a little uncomfortable, the way everyone went silent and paused. Taemin knew logically that he had nothing to fear, but his wings still curled in a little, guarded, eyes flickering over everyone like he was waiting for someone to . . . he wasn’t sure. Look at him with horror. Disgust. Instead the surprise was laced with adoration, with _love_ , and Lucas of all people was looking at him like (ironically) he was some sort of angel. Taeyong reached back out to trace fingers through some of those dark feathers, sending a shiver down his spine, and then he smiled. Taemin was sure he wasn’t the only one who was a little awe-struck by the way Taeyong seemed to glow. 

“Beautiful,” Baekhyun breathed as he shuffled up the bed a little, his own expression a lot softer compared to the frustration that’d been etched onto his features for days. Taemin just let them look. Let them _touch_. It was almost too overbearing, having so many sets of hands run over his wings and body, the motions more savouring each touch than greedy in the way they explored, taking their time. Taemin was used to feeling the desire that people had for them, but nothing could ever compare to what he felt from his lovers.

“Remember how you fixed a whole city after kissing Taeyong?” Ten practically purred as he nipped at his earlobe, tongue tracing the path of his teeth; Taemin could hear that smug little grin in his voice as he spoke. “Imagine how it’d feel to fuck him.” He couldn’t quite help the groan that left his lips, swallowed up by Baekhyun who was drinking them up greedily and stroking his cock slowly, the movements slow but firm and already drawing him rather close to the edge. Gods, he wanted. Lucas had somehow worked his way in behind him and was running hands almost reverently over his back, tracing where his wings emerged from between his shoulder blades and pressing soft butterfly kisses to the sensitive flesh there. “I got him ready for you, hyung. Don’t you want to feel?”

Taemin nodded, worrying Baekhyun’s bottom lip with his own and almost trying to follow when he pulled back, though he wasn’t given much time to focus on that before another body was sliding forward to straddle his thighs, one surrounded by an energy that was far too familiar. It was Ten who wrapped fingers around one of his wrists and guided his hand down between warm bodies, both of their breaths hitching when they trailed over Taeyong’s straining erection, then down further. Well, Ten certainly hadn’t been exaggerating. 

It was blasphemous, really — the idea of something like him even daring to lay his hands on Taeyong.

Taeyong seemed to come alive under his touch, though.

“Wait,” he breathed out, words rough as he stopped, drawing his hands back. Everyone seemed to pause, probably worried, but Taemin just raised one of his hands up, listening to the faint whistle that rang through the air before a blade quite literally flew across the room, jewel-encrusted hilt landing in his palm.

“Woah, woah— what’s going on?” Jongin rushed, sitting up and wiping the spit from around his mouth as Lucas let out a displeased groan from his side but also paused, eyes wide and staring at the blade.

“I . . .” Gods, why couldn’t he just _say it_. Taemin had called them all here for a reason after all and he’d told himself that he wouldn’t have the problem of clamming up again, that he’d just be honest and let them know what he wanted, that there was no reason to worry about their response. 

“That’s a ritual knife,” Ten spoke up quietly, looking confused, maybe a little nervous; of course Ten would be able to recognise it, as well as the carvings in the blade. 

“I found a way to bind demons to a master,” Taemin blurted, grip tightening around the blade. “I’m more demon than human, and theoretically, there’s no limit to the amount of people a demon can be bound to, as long as it’s performed correctly.”

“Taemin,” Jongin started, voice wary, “that doesn’t . . . you don’t need to do this.”

“I don’t,” Taemin admitted, jaw twitching a little before he raised his gaze from the blade, and there was an obvious conviction burning in his eyes. “But I want to.” There was a tense silence for a few seconds.

“What would it mean?” Lucas spoke up very quietly. Taemin couldn’t blame the younger male for his apprehension, not when it came to something like this, something binding — perhaps Lucas had grown up surrounded by magic and adored it, but this was something darker, heavier. “If we agree.”

“Bindings are forever,” Taemin admitted. Once upon a time the mere thought of being forced to tie himself to anyone in such a way would’ve been absolutely terrifying, and he sure as hell would never have been the one suggesting such a thing, but he’d been thinking, not just the past few days or weeks, but months — he wanted a way to show them when he couldn’t with words. Perhaps he couldn’t give them what a human could, but whatever that blackened heart in his chest was, it belonged to them. “You’d be able to call on me whenever you desired; technically, you could force me to do your bidding.” It was the biggest show of trust he had, offering up his freedom on a silver platter. “I’d only be able to feed from you. In extreme circumstances, you could harness some of my energy.

“You’d remain the same as you are — you wouldn’t become like me,” Taemin was quick to reassure, “but mortal sicknesses couldn’t harm you, nor would time ravage you the way that it would most. You’d still be mortal, just _special_.”

That was the bit that made everyone truly pause. Hypothetically, someone could live forever if bound for a demon, or at least as long as their demon lived, and if their demon died then they’d just go on to live a normal life. That being said, they could still be killed, though if there was an option to change that he would’ve done anything. Taemin doubted he’d be able to live forever due to that human blood inside him, but he’d already lived so long, and he was sure he had a while still.

He never wanted to be alone again.

“You’d really trust us with this, wouldn’t you?” Much to Taemin’s surprise, it was Mark who’d broken the silence, his eyes a little wet; Taemin instantly reached out with his free hand to wipe away the tears starting to slip under his eyes, brows furrowed. Gods, it hadn’t been his intention to upset them. He nodded. 

“Yes,” Lucas murmured. Out of everyone, it was Lucas who he’d worried about agreeing with the plan most, so when he was the first to verbally consent to it Taemin couldn’t resist the way his lips curled into the faintest of smiles. “If everyone agrees, then . . . yes. I want to stay by your side, hyung.”

“Me too,” Mark sniffed as he rubbed the rest of his tears away, leaning into Baekhyun’s side who finally seemed to regain his composure a little and wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him close.

“I wish you’d brought this up before everyone got horny,” Baekhyun huffed quietly, but there was a softness to his eyes as he too nodded. “But of course, Taemin. As if I’d let you all leave me out of the fun.”

“Do you even have to ask?” Ten snorted when feline eyes flickered his way, reaching out to shove the older warlock’s shoulder gently, but there was a slight moisture in his eyes too that Taemin definitely didn’t dare mention. “Yes.”

“If one of us dies, what happens?”

It was the question no one wanted to ask, but of course the question had come from Jongin. Taemin was silent for a few moments, his chest tightening into a terrible sort of ache as he considered it, and hell, it wasn’t something he wanted to imagine. He refused to believe that was even a possibility. “Nothing,” he promised. “It just fades, on that end.”

“I want to,” Taeyong agreed only a few moments later, reaching out to set his hand over the one holding the dagger, and after that it was only Jongin. Truthfully, for a few tense moments Taemin was almost about to believe that Jongin was going to reject the offer. His king was probably trying to think of ways why it was a bad idea, probably blaming himself for _something_ , thinking it was because of the prophecy. Truth be told, Taemin would’ve come to this ultimatum eventually, the prophecy had just made him realise his truth sooner — his own desires.

Jongin didn’t answer him verbally, but he nodded, features softening and a small smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“I hope no one is averse to blood,” Taemin spoke with a sort of finality, twisting the blade in his grip.

That probably made it all seem a little more menacing than it actually was, but it hadn’t been his intention to strike fear in anyone; that being said, this wasn’t something to be taken lightly. It was demonic power, a demonic ritual, and it wasn’t going to be pretty by any means, at least not when compared to some of the things he’d seen Taeyong do. There’d be no flowers. 

Instead, Taemin instructed everyone to get comfortable and start to get back into the swing of things, claiming that he needed there to be enough energy in the room to fuel such a powerful binding spell. He certainly didn’t mention that, traditionally, you’d need a human sacrifice for an enchantment of this size. Taemin wouldn’t have suggested this if he didn’t have faith. That being said, if Taeyong hadn’t agreed and hadn’t been here, it certainly wouldn’t be possible, because he needed to be able to cultivate the way the power surged between them in order to make this work.

Taemin was careful in the way he traced the tip of the blade over his chest, carving into the skin right above his heart — it bled a little, as expected, the blood just as red as that which flowed through the veins of his lovers. It was an intricate symbol composed of numerous sections, some runes in languages lost to mankind, soft words slipping from his lips that were certainly a foreign tongue and sounded more animalistic even in whispers; it wasn’t a language of this plane. Unlike Fae symbols these were all crude and angular, but they knitted together like little constellations on his breast, forming a haphazard circle with a ten-pointed star in the centre. 

It stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to other pains he’d endured, and it paled in comparison to what he’d feel if he didn’t do this.

“Why is this so embarrassing?” Mark choked out as he settled in front of him, reclined back against Baekhyun’s chest with deft hands holding him close, one stroking over his leaking erection as he thrust up into the younger male, face buried into his throat.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he watched Baekhyun chuckled against his skin, peering over at Taemin and nodding. “This isn’t the first time we’ve seen you like this.” As if to prove a point he nudged Mark’s thighs open even wider with his own which earned them a long, drawn out moan, thighs trembling; it gave Taemin a perfect view of where they were joined and he couldn’t resist reaching out to dance fingers along the milky skin of his inner thigh, dipping in to trace where Baekhyun was seated inside him. Mark instantly whined but Taemin didn’t press that fingers forward, just gently rubbed over his rim before he leant in closer and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

“Just relax,” he breathed, distracting him with slow, filthy kisses as he let his own magic roll out into the space between them, keeping Mark’s focus even as he traced a small line over his collarbone. The younger male didn’t even seem to notice the little cut, just moaning against his lips until Taemin ducked his head down to lap at the small bead of blood that oozed from the wound. It tasted like, well, blood, but underneath the metallic taste was _power_ , fizzling through his veins. Mark clutched at him, fingers running over his back and wings as Baekhyun thrust up into him a little harder, but even through the haze of sex the elder seemed the sense to extend his wrist out, giving a small nod. Taemin was quick, dulling the small prick of pain with magic before he lapped over the other’s wrist and pulled back.

Blood magic was one of the most potent forms, after all.

As much as he wanted to stay, Taemin forced himself to pull back, kissing both of them once more for good measure before he worked his way across the sheets a little to his next targets. “Giving Lucas a treat tonight, your majesty?” He breathed out with barely veiled amusement and lust as he ghosted his lips over Jongin’s shoulder, looking over him to where Lucas was laying on the bed, hands grasping for purchase at the headboard and flushed as Jongin leisurely rode him, those thick, corded thighs he adored so much working overtime. Definitely a rare treat.

“Going to join?” Jongin panted out, twisting his head to steal a kiss and grinding his lips down in a way that had Lucas whining out loud and trying to buck his hips up with little success. Taemin just shook his head, shifting around to the side and watching them for a few moments, reaching out to pinch at one of Jongin’s nipples. It was easy to infuse a little bit of magic, something that had Jongin arching his back and almost collapsing on top of Lucas before he caught himself, hair a mess and eyes dark. Their king looked utterly debauched and he loved it. Loved him. “Lucas is doing a good job, I wouldn’t want to steal you away,” Taemin hummed and carded his fingers through Lucas’s hair, affectionately pressing back sweaty strands. “You still good?” He asked a little softer when he watched Lucas’s eyes flicker to the knife.

Lucas didn’t even seem to hesitate, instead arching his chest up a little and nodding. “Make sure to kiss it better,” he breathed, words trailing into another moan as Jongin swivelled his hips. Taemin reached out to set a hand on his chest, rubbing appreciatively over golden skin before he leant down to press a few kisses in his wake, waiting until the other squeezed his eyes shut again before he drew just a small line, enough that the other didn’t even seem to really notice it — too caught up in pleasure. Good, that was what he’d been going for. He was up before Lucas even opened his eyes, the line closed over. “Get it over with, hyung,” he half whined, making Jongin laugh.

“He’s already done.”

Taemin still made sure to kiss Lucas before he pulled back completely and moved closer to Jongin, not missing the way the other seemed more than a little excited. It made him snort softly, and he didn’t bother giving Jongin the same preparation that he had everyone else, maintaining his gaze as he traced the blade lightly over the space above his lip. He knew Jongin favoured the sting, his eyes fluttering and bottom lip pulled between his lips as he watched Taemin lap it up, cock twitching mere inches from his face and leaking profusely; he was tempted to give it attention, but he didn’t want to interfere with the spell. After. Jongin still got a kiss, though, mumbling how it was a shame he’d healed the cut instantly.All the elder could do was roll his eyes fondly, sending another wave of energy through his hand that had Jongin crying out and falling down against Lucas’s chest a little, shaking.

When Taemin turned around, he couldn’t deny that he’d allowed himself a few moments to just . . . well, to savour the view; from this angle he was able to see a bit of the best of everything, and he hadn’t even really registered the way that his free hand had trailed down south, rubbing over his abdomen before he palmed himself, breath instantly hitching. They were so beautiful like this, like something out of a dream — he could see even from here just how overwhelmed Taeyong was, and he couldn’t blame him, the slight tremble to to his flank rather endearing as Ten clutched him closer and guided his hips. Ten was obviously enjoying himself if the way he was panting and rolling his hips back against the pale haired male was anything to go by, hair plastered to his forehead and fingers desperately grabbing at plush skin, his cock looking almost painful with how flushed it was, straining against his stomach and twitching with every trust.

“You just gonna sit and watch us?” Ten still managed to breathe out, though, his head tilting to the side a little and pointedly trailing down his body to where he was squeezing his own length, biting at his bottom lip. “C’mere.” Who was he to say no? Taemin reluctantly lowered his hand and shuffled forward, his heart running at a pace that was certainly elevated compared to what it usually was, but even now it would only feel like the beating of a normal human heart. 

Once he was within reach the younger warlock reached out and wrapped slender fingers around his wrist to instantly tug him down into a kiss, panting into it and moaning unabashedly. Taemin just settled into it and tried to shuffle his wings around a little so that they wouldn’t knock Taeyong, who at this point was more grinding into Ten than thrusting, eyes half closed and cheeks flushed. Ten relinquished his grip on his hips, but only to cover one of his own, the one holding the blade — Taemin let him guide their joined hands up, wrapping around the blade and letting his breath hitch as the other carved a small line on his throat. He broke their kiss only to guide his head down, and Taemin allowed the other to do so, lapping at crimson dots that beaded along his skin.

It was different, this time; there was a small fluctuation of magic each time that’d wormed it’s way under his skin, but this time it wasn’t just his own magic reaction, and he knew they both felt it when Ten practically sobbed and tightened the grip in his hair. He wasn’t offended by any means when the other pushed at him once he’d pulled his lips away, trembling and shaking and eyes holding that glow that he rarely got to see. “Fuck him,” Ten moaned bluntly, weakly shoving him towards Taeyong, but it made Taemin pause with wide eyes, looking between them. “Don’t— oh god,” he choked, “don’t look at me like that.”

“Taemin,” a softer voice added, hoarse and shaking in a way that was just barely noticeable. Said male glanced over, swallowing thickly, but Taeyong was gazing at him with such obvious want. Oh. It was . . . he wasn’t quite sure if there were words that could describe how he felt, though he supposed that in a way it was rather thrilling, finally allowing himself this after months of aching desire. 

“Are you sure?” He murmured, barely above a whisper as he trailed tender-hearted kisses over Taeyong’s shoulder, rubbing a hand up and down his spine ever so gently, but the other male just nodded, leaning back against him as much as he could .

“Want you.”

Taemin’s heart swelled in his chest, and perhaps so did his cock, aching for attention and rutting gently against the other’s buttocks, leaving a trail of vicious fluid. “You’ve always had me,” he breathed. He could feel a hand running lazily over his own back, the movement slow and affectionate — he knew them well enough to know just from the hand that it was Jongin, no doubt spent and just watching. It was oddly encouraging. Taemin was incredibly careful in the way he adjusted himself and let the head of his cock settle between the other’s cheeks, nudging against his entrance which was already slick and open from Ten’s earlier ministrations, drawing him in as he pressed forward.

It’d been a while, since he’d done this. Taemin couldn’t keep the moan from spilling from his mouth, burying it against the skin of Taeyong’s shoulder even as the other let out a similar noise. Underneath them, a string of choked noises were falling from Ten with each movement of their hips; it wasn’t perfect, nor perfectly paced; they were all so close already, physically aroused but also fuelled by the heavy magic hanging in the air and surrounding them.

“Do it,” Taeyong cried softly, words stuttering with every thrust of Taemin’s hips. Truthfully, he’d almost forgotten that there was an ulterior motive, too caught up in the warm, wet heat clenching around him. It was hard to focus on bringing the blade up between them, carving a small line on the white-haired male’s shoulder and instantly sealing his lips over the mark, shoving all that energy and power he’d been accumulating out into the space between them.

The effect was sort of instantaneous.

It was blinding white pleasure unlike anything he’d ever felt, coupled with a burning on his chest that only served to amplify the sensation as he buckled, burying himself as deep into Taeyong as he could and biting down, covering both of them and throwing out his wings.

Taemin sure as hell didn’t have to wonder if the binding had worked. 

Then again, he hadn’t expected to black out.

When he came to, it was slow, sluggishly, like rousing from a deep sleep, feline eyes slowly fluttering open as his body slowly attempted to process all the sensations. It was . . . gods, everything was heightened, like each of his senses had been dialled up to eleven — the warm bodies plastered around him were almost too hot, but it was a pleasant warmth, something that made him feel comfortable and soothed him. Taemin could feel it, that _tug._ His wings were still present and folded a little underneath him, but he could feel fingers carding through them, through his hair, running gently over his skin.

“It worked,” Taeyong spoke up softly, head pillowed on his shoulder, and Taemin just closed his eyes again, let his features fall into a relaxed, content expression. He hummed his agreement.

“I . . .” he trailed off, throat bobbing as he felt someone — Mark — press a kiss to the skin where he had his head settled on his thigh, seemingly half asleep but still a little conscious. “I love you.” The words were said slow, quietly, only just audible and to no one in particular. Taemin was thankful for the fact that no one made a fuss when those three syllables finally left his lips after all this time, they just snuggled in closer, Taeyong’s fingers tracing over the mark on his chest that now looked more like a tattoo than a scar, dark lines in the shape of the sigil. He was theirs, and they were his. 

Like it should’ve always been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add a few notes here:
> 
> \- gege: affectionate term for an older brother  
> \- I never quite put anything in stone with Taemin as I wanted him to be interpreted however the reader wanted, but I suppose his character is a little paradoxical in the fact that he's a creature who feeds on sexual energy yet doesn't overtly show much of his own desire. I wouldn't go so far as to classify the character as asexual, especially when he obviously enjoys himself; if anything, I supposed demisexual would be a more accurate term if you're desperate for one, but I see him more as a character who, well, isn't human, so he just works a little differently. That and some deep set trauma we'll touch on eventually.  
> \- I wasn't sure whether to add a tag to cover the ritual aspect, so I did just in case, even though the mention of blood is so incredibly minor and it's not really a sexual thing in this context  
> \- some Lucas backstory! You have no idea how much I have fleshed out in my notes for all these characters, it's why I'll definitely need a sequel to cover all of it. I wonder if you can pick up on the hint I left in his section   
> \- wow, long chapter. If you made it this far then thank you lmao
> 
> next time:  
> /This morning, the streets were silent, not a sigh nor flutter to be heard.
> 
> For those first few moments all that could be done was to admire the peacefulness of it, the beauty that rose up into the sky, yet it only took a few moments for anyone to recognise that today was not like other days. The higher the sun rose, the more red the sky became, until it was painted a rather ominous crimson, scattered with dark clouds that barely moved — not even the wind disturbed them. It was so incredibly silent. Unsettling./
> 
> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes.


	31. Part 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, it feels good to be updating again! I'm glad I was able to get this out within a few days rather than making you all wait so long again ♡   
> The 'battle' was originally going to be one very big chapter, but I've broken it up into smaller, manageable chunks for easier reading (and my own sanity lmao), so this is part one of that! I really can't believe that there's only a few chapters left of this - this instalment, at least, because as I've mentioned I have so much more planned in this universe. I've fallen in love with these boys so much.  
> Also?? I've been busy so I haven't been checking but almost five and a half thousand hits?? Over three hundred kudos? I honestly never expected that this fic would ever garner such an incredible response and I can't thank you all enough for your overwhelming support  
> (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Sunrises were always exquisite in Enese, and this morning was no exception. Warm, golden hues slowly began to paint themselves over the horizon as the sun began to peak above the skyline, returning after a long night filled with worry and preparation for the unknown. Morning dew, frozen from the extreme temperatures, glistening under soft light and creating a blanket of delicate ice over the foliage covering the ground. 

Even on a frigid winter’s morning such as this there’d usually be townsfolk beginning to emerge from their homes; farmers wandering out to tend to their animals and workers setting up store, weary families stirring and porridge warming on the stove.

This morning, the streets were silent, not a sigh nor flutter to be heard.

For those first few moments all that could be done was to admire the peacefulness of it, the beauty that rose up into the sky, yet it only took a few moments for anyone to recognise that today was _not_ like other days. The higher the sun rose, the more red the sky became, until it was painted a rather ominous crimson, scattered with dark clouds that barely moved — not even the wind disturbed them. It was so incredibly silent. So unsettling.

Mere seconds later, Ten watched as a thick, murky fog crept out of the recesses of the forest, lazy tendrils trailing over the ground and surrounding the castle. For a moment he held his breath and waited to see if it would crawl over the walls, but instead it stopped, lapping at old stone like mild waves — testing his wards.

“That’s no normal fog, is it?” His gaze flickered over to the man beside him, noting that Jungwoo looked a little uneasy. Ten couldn’t blame him. Even though their own numbers were grievously inferior compared to the army that the northern kingdom had brought to assist them, their men were loyal, painfully so, trained by Mark and Lucas; they had minimal field experience, and certainly nothing like this, but Ten certainly couldn’t fault them. He’d met the other in passing a few times here and there, enough that the taller male had been familiar when Mark had come up to him in the early hours of the morning and asked him to take a guard along with him. He’d wanted to say no, but the worry in the other’s voice had made him agree.

“No, it’s not,” he murmured, pursing his lips before he urged the other to follow him away from the edge of the wall, ducking into one of the towers. Ten was quiet for a few moments as he pulled a blank piece of paper from his belt and pricked his finger on a metal pin, tracing familiar patterns over the parchment before it burst into flames. He could feel that the other male was watching him, eyes wide, but there was no fear or disgust there — of course there wasn’t, if Mark approved. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

Jungwoo’s eyes widened and for a brief moment he almost saw something almost fearful, but not of him, just the question he’d posed. Ten knew he was right when the other averted his gaze, soft, brown hair falling into his eyes a little. “The air,” he mumbled, “it’s heavy.” Ten gave a nod of approval and pulled a small broach from his bag, a circle of dried organic matter and metal that he reached out to pin to the other’s cloak.

“Be careful. They won’t like people like us.” He’d had his suspicions, but the fact that Ten couldn’t really feel anything meant that the blood in Jungwoo’s veins was so incredibly diluted that even he couldn’t pick up on it. Likely, the other couldn’t even use magic, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t sensitive to it, and it didn’t mean that a full Fae wouldn’t be able to feel it. The other just stared at him with wide, innocent eyes for a moment before nodding, hand settling over the broach like it was something incredibly precious. 

“Thank you.”

Ten wasn’t used to such . . . well, he wasn’t used to people being so _earnest_ and _thankful_ to him, and to be honest the warlock wasn’t even sure how to react. So he just nodded and averted his gaze, motioning for the other to follow him as they headed back to regroup. They were here — he could feel it. 

His robes billowed around him as they stepped through the door into the next watchtower. As he passed by another window he glanced down into the streets below, taking notice of the perfect lines of soldiers waiting for any command, pale blue cloaks different to their own men, completely still. There was a distinct lack of a breeze. “Any movement yet?” The witch — Yixing, who was staring out another window, his expression even and lacking any sort of fear even though he knew they were all undoubtedly nervous.

“Other than the fog? No. If they’re going to attack, I wish they’d just hurry up already and make a move,” he gritted out, brows furrowing. “I hate waiting.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” the other chided softly. It looked like the other male had opened his mouth to say something else until he paused and closed his eyes, head tilting ever so slightly. Ten just watched and waited; it’d freaked him out a little at first, the way that he and his counterpart could communicate without even opening their mouth, but now he was rather used to it. It was a handy ability for the pair to share. 

“What is it?”

“The scout is back.” Gods, he could tell just from the other’s tone and the sole look to his eyes that it wasn’t good. “He . . . his eyes are gone.” Ten heard Jungwoo inhale sharply behind him and let his own fingers curl into fists, energy broiling around him as he cursed under his breath. Shit. It was a clear sign that they weren’t alone and that this all wasn’t just going to blow over like they’d been so naively hoping. Such brutality . . . he supposed it made you wonder, right? Who was right and wrong, when beings that were supposed to be pure and holy were the ones committing such heinous crimes on innocent people. 

“Is Jongdae still with the others?”

“Yes.”

“Tell them that it’s a stand off — when Baekhyun and I were planning we knew this would be a possibility, but we hoped that it wouldn’t end up going this way." It was what put them at the biggest disadvantage, after all. It was winter and their stores were obviously depleted a little by this point — even though they could guard the castle well, they weren’t really prepared for a full seige, and their enemy knew it. If they tried to wait it out, they’d all starve and die, slowly picked off like weak cattle by the wolves that lurked in the shadows. “They’re trying to goad us out.”

“Shouldn’t we stay put, then?”

“No; that’s what they expect us to do. The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we’ll be. We need to get this over with as quickly as possible. They’ll be underestimating us,” Ten hummed, a glint in his eye, “but that’s their mistake — we’re a lot smarter than they give us credit for.”

It was sweet, really, that when they rejoined the main group it was Taemin who offered to act first. He hadn’t been surprised when Taeyong also spoke up, wanting to be the one to step out there rather than for anyone else to be at risk, but Ten had just smile and let little shadows dance along the lines of his hands. No, Taeyong needed to stay in here for now. Safe. Besides, Ten was more than capable of dealing with this right now whilst the others watched on, even more so now that he could feel that underlying buzz in his veins, something with a signature that was so distinguishably Taemin, no doubt a result of the binding. Taemin _had_ said he should be able to draw on his energy, and gods, the other was practically saturated in it after last night. If kissing Taeyong once had made him powerful, it was starting to feel like the sex had made him _invincible_.

Ten felt a little invincible himself, but he wasn’t going to be cocky and foolish; he rolled his neck as he stepped out through the southern gate, eyes flitting over the large clearing ahead of him. If there was going to be a fight, this was where they’d want it, somewhere relatively flat, the tree line far off. An even playing field. Tendrils of fog curled around his feet, trailing up, testing him, but he didn’t falter. 

He was a strong warlock, incredibly so, but in the end he was just a half breed, and he knew that they wouldn’t be expecting much from him. After all, how could he ever compete with Fae magic?

Ten didn’t even need an incantation. 

His eyes flared, golden, as the fog froze, unmoving for a brief moment before a gale swept around him like a whirlwind, banishing the fog back even as far as the forest which was an easy two hundred yards. The warlock could feel that heavy, oppressive magic pushing back against him, trying to overpower him and spread back out, but he held his ground, an unbreakable barrier that eventually erased the thick mist completely. Ten couldn’t help but feel smug, if just because he knew it’d piss them off — he knew he couldn’t get ahead of himself. 

He didn’t panic even as he heard an unmistakable whistling in the air. Knowing that the others would panic, he folded down four fingers behind his back, telling them to wait — to trust him. Sure enough, an arrow broke through the foliage, centred right between his eyes, but it bounced off an invisible wall three feet in front of him and fell to the ground. Ten didn’t run, even as he heard more whistling, this time much, much louder, almost deafening really as it approached him; hundreds and hundreds of arrows rained down upon him like droplets from the clouds, some aimed at him, but this wasn’t even as much as about harming him this time. They were testing him.

Once again, they fell helplessly to the ground. This time the warlock didn’t just wait idly for another attack, instead letting his eyelids flutter closed and exhaling deeply as he drew forth magic from the air around him, guiding it to fill the space inside him in a way that was always exhilarating. A soft, melodic whistle filled the air, his lips barely even pursed and the noise utterly relaxed — in response, the arrows on the ground trembled before rising up into the air, each and every one following his will as they turned their heads back to their source; invisible bows seemed to draw them back, fuelling them with unbridled energy, energy that used him as a conduit. The arrows flew back the way they came, faster than natural, yet when they landed smoke could be seen rising from the forest, agonised screams answering his own tune.

An army, then, if their leader deemed so many disposable — a human army if he had to guess.

Having gained what he needed, Ten folded his last finger down and turned to walk back inside the castle gates, eyes dark and shadows curling at his feet.   


—

“What’s wrong?” Baekhyun asked softly, standing just to his right and staring out off the balcony just as he was. Taeyong let out a quiet hum but didn’t answer instantly.

“Seungyoun is the type to hide behind innocent people,” he finally murmured, picking at the already raw skin around his nails and trying not to focus too intently on the guilt that’d been building up inside him ever since he’d woken up. “Maybe some of them aren’t good, but . . . they’re following orders, if he allied with someone to gain an army — they’re just human, they’re disposable to him.”

“Death is inevitable in a war, Taeyong. It’s their choice to fight, even if it’s for money.”

“Death without a just cause is just . . . death.” All Taeyong could do was stare out at the forest and try to think of a way to change this, to fix it, to minimise all the casualties; he wasn’t an amazing strategist like Baekhyun, wasn’t incredibly smart like Ten, and as much as he wanted to be sure of his plan he now couldn’t help but to doubt himself. He couldn’t afford to fail.

“You don’t think we have a just cause?” Baekhyun asked, voice a little firmer, but Taeyong didn’t turn to face him, not until the elder gently gripped his jaw and forced him to tear his gaze away from what would likely be a battlefield soon. 

“I’m just—“

“Just _everything_ ,” Baekhyun cut him off, leaning in to graze lips over his forehead and then his own mouth, lingering. “You did what you had to do to save Jongin and you made the right choice — would you fight for us?”

“Of course,” Taeyong retorted instantly, rearing back a little like he was offended that the other had even asked, but he realised rather quickly that he’d fallen right into the trap.

“Exactly,” the elder chuckled softly as he brushed back a few pale strands that’d fallen free from where he had them up off his face. “Don’t be so silly, Taeyong.” All he could do was stare for a few moments before a faint smile curled at his own lips. Taeyong let a small huff escape him as he stole another kiss, trying to savour it as best he could

“Lucas?”

Taeyong almost reluctantly removed himself from Baekhyun’s arms so that he could turn around and follow the elder’s gaze, falling on the tall figure staring in the doorway; he was so used to seeing Lucas look so happy and carefree that it was always a little jarring when he was presented with this, a man who looked older, more serious. He looked every part the fierce warrior that he was, amplified by the sword strapped to his back, bigger than anything that a normal man should’ve been able to wield.

“We’re going to pass through the gates,” Lucas spoke up, expression softening minutely as he focused on them. “Taemin said there’s about four hours till the eclipse.”

Four hours left.

Taeyong’s lips curled into a small, fond smile and he strode forward, stopping in front of the taller male and reaching out to pat his chest lightly, fingers tracing over the cool, ornate metal of his armour. “Be careful, please,” he breathed out. 

“I’ll be by Jongin’s side, don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“I’m talking about you,” Taeyong scolded lightly. “I’m not strong enough to cover everyone and I just . . . promise me.”

“Of course,” Lucas reassured quickly, but Taeyong could see the moment that realisation flashed across his features. “Wait, you’re going to be out there? On the field? Taeyong, I don’t—“

“I don’t like it either,” Baekhyun admitted as he walked up to join them. “But we can’t keep him locked in here, Lucas, and it’s . . . Taeyong can fight — he’s got knives and we both know he’s good with them, yeah? And he’s got magic.”

“I know,” the taller mumbled almost reluctantly, pulling at Taeyong’s heart; he reached down to lace their fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze. 

“Don’t you worry about me, Yukhei,” the white haired male whispered very quietly, offering up a reassuring smile and kissing his cheek once he’d rocked up onto his toes. “Taemin will be close by and there’ll be plenty of men, and besides, I’ll be staying towards the back with Yixing anyway.” Admittedly, the only way he’d been able to get Jongin to agree to this was to promise he would remain at the rear as a healer — that he wouldn’t be seeing any action.

“Let’s walk down together, then,” the other finally subsided, squeezing his hand back.

The last time Taeyong had been around any sort of army or been involved in a real battle,he’d only been a child — young and defenceless, _vulnerable_. Now he was anything but, and he was determined never to feel like that again. Even so, it was a bit overwhelming to walk down and see the literal army that they’d amassed, ready and waiting for commands from their king, a king who was talking to Jongin.

Jongin looked . . . well, he was dressed like a warrior rather than a king, but he still managed to look utterly regal, that royal blue cloak fluttering behind him and one hand keeping a grip on a double edged spear like the one he’d so often seen him train with, except this one was sharpened and ready for battle. Taeyong kept off to the side and just watched him out of the corner of his eye for a while — really, trying to commit it to memory and savour every little detail. 

He still found himself breaking away from Yixing as everyone prepared to head out, though, jogging over to where Mark was after he’d finished addressing his own battalion and catching his arm. “You look so grown up,” was the first thing out of his mouth, a little teasing but mostly just fond as the other turned to look at him, surprised. Obviously he knew that Mark was no longer the young boy he’d spent his youth with, but this was different. He hadn’t been a boy for a long time, but now he was undeniably a man; he looked _fierce_ , with that bow strapped to his back. “Very handsome,“ Taeyong added to distract from the thickness in his voice. 

“You look . . . very handsome too,” Mark answered after a moment, ears a little pink. Over the months Taeyong had gotten used to wearing clothes that actually fit and hadn’t been eaten by moths, occasionally something fancier here and there like the ball, but he still felt a little odd dressed like this, like someone important — he was undeniably a member of Jongin’s personal court, and whilst his outfit wasn’t quite robes like Ten seemed to favour, it gave him room to work. It wasn’t made for fighting with a sword necessarily, not with the thick, flowing cloak, blue just like everyone else’s but less optimised for combat, just to make him blend in. “Are you sure you want to come out?”

“Very sure,” he promised.

A horn sounded and the creaking of wood reached his ears as the gates were pried open, the soldiers around them starting to move, and Taeyong . . . he surged forward, not caring if anyone saw as he desperately sealed their lips together, clutching at the other’s armour. “Not a scratch,” he demanded with a tight voice. The white haired male didn’t give Mark a chance to protest at all before he was pulling back and heading back off to rejoin Yixing, pushing down that frantic ache in his chest.

This had to work.

To say his heart was hammering as they started moving through the gates would be a gross understatement; it was the sort of fear that started curling thick in your gut and spread to every inch of your body before you could ever hope to quell it, the kind that had every hair standing on end and a cloying sense of wrongness settling over your skin. It felt like staring down a blade, that unease and ambiguity that came with the unknown — he felt like a child who’d wandered free from his mother’s skirt and had found himself lost in a world bigger than he ever could’ve comprehended, terrified and lost.

Taeyong inhaled deeply, once, then twice, and then he let all of that air vacate his lungs as his eyes fluttered and he continued along behind Yixing. He could— no, he _had_ to be able to do this. There was no room for error, and certainly not for failure.

No matter how many times he drew on his magic he was sure it’d never grow old. Taeyong couldn’t imagine that it could ever become something less than incredible and exhilarating, certainly never something _novel_. It felt like . . . it felt like what he surmised it must be like to be born and take your first breath. A rush of life, something that could never quite lose it’s wonder. Sometimes he wondered how he’d ever survived before, without being able to feel this, all of this — as he stepped out onto the frozen ground he could feel the steady thrum of the earth beneath him, the whispers in the wind that tickled his face, could feel the life of the forest and the dangers hidden within.

The sporadic patches of normally white snow that hadn’t melted with the rising sun were tinted pink, reflecting back a crimson sky that was rather unlike anything he’d ever witnessed before.

_/Taeyong./_

The white haired male instantly whirred around, gaze frantic and pulse skipping a beat as he heard that all too familiar voice, one he’d been dreading since that fateful night. Seungyoun. Yet as he desperately searched for the source of the voice he came across nothing but lines of soldiers. Taeyong swallowed thickly and turned back to face Yixing who was already paused and watching him with obvious concern. He just shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he promised. “I just thought I heard something.”

_/More secrets, hmm?/_

Taeyong paled a little as he walked — Seungyoun was in his head. He could feel it now, that darkness creeping into the recesses of his mind, probing and trying to slip deeper, but he was quick to shut him out as he’d been taught.

_/What do you want, Seungyoun?/_

_/You know what I want, but you refuse to give it to me. Tell me, are you really ready to watch them all die for your own ambitions? Perhaps you are more Fae than you realise./_

_/I’m nothing like you,/_ Taeyong practically snarled back, body moving as though on auto pilot as he followed after Yixing, sticking perhaps only two feet behind, _/and this has nothing to do with ambition. You’re the one who made the decision to come here, to threaten us. I won’t let you touch them./_

_/And how many people have to die for your_ love _, Taeyong?/_

As much as he hated to admit it, the words had their intended affect; pain and guilt rose up inside him like a wave, crashing before he could brace himself and threatening to drag him under. Taeyong gritted his teeth and tried to focus, hands clenched into pale fists. He wouldn’t let Seungyoun win. He sucked in a deep, shaky breath and tried to focus on centring himself for a few brief moments, eyes stinging as he tuned out the commands being shouted around him, the way everyone was falling into practiced formations as they waited for the order.

_/Only you./_ His voice came out far smoother and confident than he’d ever imagined — confident. _/You should’ve picked another bastard, Seungyoun, because this one is going to be the last thing you see./_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /Lucas looked . . . ferocious was the only word for it. Everyone he’d seen was covered in blood and other fluids but Lucas was drenched to the bone, his armour glistening with fresh blood that ran off him in rivulets. The great sword he’d only ever seen him train with was coated in blood and gristle as he swung it, cleaving another man— gods, cleaving him in half at the waist like he was nothing. Bodies littered the ground at his feet and more men kept running his way.
> 
> Behind him, tucked between Lucas and a wall of flames, was Ten./
> 
> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> If you're interested in sneak peeks, character aesthetics and musings here and there, feel free to check out my twitter @peachxi1


	32. Part 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The horrors of battle are never easy, but none of them have seen it on this scale before; Lucas makes his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little stressful to write because with a lot of things I'd never really written action or battle scenes and I wanted to try and be as accurate and descriptive as I could whilst not making it boring. There are some graphic descriptions of gore in this chapter, but I don't think they're too bad.  
> At the same time, I've had elements of this chapter planned out since before I even started writing ALW so I'm very excited to post it, as they set up some stuff for the sequel! And there definitely will be one, promise.

It was odd, really, to think that he had mere hours to live.

Jongin had been living on borrowed time since he was just a child, since Mark had defied fate and saved him from the massacre of his family, and he supposed deep down he’d always felt that perhaps he wouldn’t live a long life. They’d been plagued by danger for years as they’d struggled to survive and there’d already been more close calls than he could ever begin to count. Hell, he’d already died once. He supposed this time it was just inevitable that Taeyong wouldn’t be able to bring him back — in a way he was glad, because if once had splintered his soul . . . he didn’t want to think about what a second resurrection would do. It wasn’t natural. 

Perhaps he was fated to die today, but that didn’t mean that those he loved had to.

Jongin wasn’t the smartest of them but he was no fool and he knew these people better than he felt he knew himself sometimes, he _knew_ something was off, that there were still secrets dancing in the air and plans he was undoubtedly unaware of — he knew they were all going to try and defy fate. Fools. He’d be damned if he’d let them come to harm just for his sake; after all, someone needed to be able to run this place once he was gone, to be crowned his heir, the answers tucked away in a sealed letter he’d left upon his desk before departing this morning. 

They’d tried to convince him to stay out of this. Gods, Jongin had struggled to hold back laughter when they’d suggested keeping guarded away in some tower like he wasn’t one of their best fighters, like he was some hopeless royal rather than a warrior. He wasn’t going to sit back and let others fight in his stead, he was going to be out here just as they all were, commanding like he was supposed to with their friends from the north. It was an honour to fight beside a king such as Minseok, but to fight by those he loved . . . that was honour above all else. 

“Where’s Taemin?” He asked as they stared out at the expanse of the field ahead of them, bordered by a thick forest that he knew all too well, yet today it felt foreign. It was too silent, too still, too . . . he wasn’t quite sure how to actually describe the sensation, other than something incredibly unsettling and ominous. 

“He’s here,” Ten reassured from where he was standing to his left, voice quiet. To his right was Minseok, accompanied by one of his generals rather than either his witch or warlock who were both completely out of view; he knew from their planning that Yixing was further towards the rear with Taeyong, to hopefully keep him out of the fray, and that Jongdae was likely not too far away. “They’ll be eager to take him out early on, so he’s keeping out of sight for now.” 

Jongin let out a small huff and nodded, scanning his gaze over the tree line and searching for a sign of, well, anything. It made sense that Taemin was sticking back for now — he’d be a big target, especially given the (albeit limited) information they had; if they really did despise those with demon blood as much as it seemed then it was a good idea for him to lay low. Hell, he’d already made a note to keep a special eye on Ten too just in case. “Mark and Lucas?”

“Lucas is bringing up the left column and Mark is twenty or so yards behind us with the archers, and before you ask, Baekhyun is probably about thirty-seven yards to your right with Jongdae. They’ve got plans.”

The king nodded, keeping silent as he reached out to gently link their fingers together, not caring if the man who’d been tailing Ten — Jungwoo, he’d heard — could see it clearly. Jongin had never tried to hide his affections and today of all days he couldn’t bring himself to care if there was an audience to the fond smile he sent Ten’s way, the way he drew him a little closer and tried to soothe the staccato in his chest. “I love you, Ten,” he murmured.

“Tell me after,” the warlock answered and squeezed his hand a little tighter as he returned the smile.

Gods, he’d miss this.

Jongin wasn’t quite sure what they were waiting for or what to actually expect, but a small, naive part of him hoped that perhaps the source of all this would walk out and they’d just be able to kill him, get this all over with — but no, it made sense he’d hide behind a human army. He knew it was going to happen moments before there was even any real sign of conflict; everything grew deathly silent, the air thick and cloying. He was quick to pull back and twirl his weapon over between his fingers, breathing in and trying to brace himself for whatever was to come.

One.

Two.

Barely a moment later, warriors sprung from the tree line, pouring out onto the battlefield like ants from a disturbed nest, loud cries filling the air and accompanied by the deafening rumble of feet as they approached. Jongin allowed himself one more glance at Ten before they clashed — he tried to commit every little nuance to memory, from the slope of his nose to the small scar on his jaw, one of the many he hadn’t bothered to cover today. No matter what happened, this was how he’d remember him.

Jongin threw himself into the fray as soon as their enemy was in range, features curled into a feral sort of sneer. 

—

Baekhyun wasn’t sure that he could ever claim he’d been in a true battle before. Before he’d found them it’d been small skirmishes here and there or clashes in taverns that’d occasionally spill onto the streets, perhaps run-ins with people during his travels. Afterwards, things had been . . . well, _more._ At first it’d been frustrating just how righteous these men were, how they were always willing to help others — how they’d take on foes who they should’ve run from yet still emerge victorious somehow, uncaring of the risks involved and without any regard for their own safety. Bandits, foreign soldiers, he could deal with all that.

A battle was a little overwhelming, but there was no margin for error today and he needed to be on top of his game even more so than usual.

Baekhyun didn’t doubt his own skill by any means. He was a master with his blades. He could see so easily that they were outnumbered, though, even with their heavy reinforcements from the north — that was fine. It had to be. If he could take on two dozen men by himself, he could last now, just keep going and going until he was cut down or couldn’t raise his arms anymore; he wouldn’t surrender. Baekhyun supposed that the main difference between now and _then_ was that he was no longer just watching his own back. He had six men to watch out for, to try and protect even as he tried to keep himself alive, and beyond that, he had friends, people he didn’t want to see die. He knew he was a selfish man with selfish desires, but perhaps they’d make some sort of saint of him yet.

Occasionally he’d catch a glimpse of a familiar face through the blur of bodies and weapons yet it’d only ever be for a split second before they’d disappear again; sometimes there’d be a shout that came from a mouth he knew, calling orders. It was hard to try and work his way towards anyone with the chaos that swirled around him. Baekhyun barely even had a moment to think let alone plan, not when every other second there was someone else running his way, brandishing some manner of a weapon already stained with blood, desperate to cut him down. It was kill or be killed, and Baekhyun was doing a lot of killing. 

Baekhyun grunted as another body slumped at his feet and warm, thick blood squirted up over his face — he only had a moment to brace himself and close his eye, quickly wiping it on his sleeve which was already soaked with crimson liquid and only served to smear more over his skin. One thing stories could never prepare you for was the sensations. Men would talk about the thrill, the power of it, the honour, but they didn’t talk about the sensory experience of killing, of death; the metallic tang in the air as even more blood was spilt, the way you could taste it, the stench that came forth when you were slicing through fat and muscle and organs, when bodily fluids that were supposed to stay _inside_ came spewing out and splashed over your skin; the sound of screams and wet symphonies of tearing sinew and skin, the clang of metal and the dull thud as a blade struck home; the _visuals_ of it, of scattered bodies that’d fallen where they stood, of discarded limbs and the ground soaked in blood and guts, the way lifeless eyes would stare up at you from a face missing everything below the jaw.

It was a reminder of your own mortality.

A blast of energy surged past him, crackling and fizzling by his ear before sending the lumbering figure who’d neared him flying back out of view. Baekhyun instantly whirled around despite the fact that he knew it wasn’t a threat, instead letting a small sense of relief wash over him as Jongdae came back into view, a little sweaty and his paler clothes also starting to become soaked red and brown, but otherwise okay. As okay as he could be, at least.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” the other teased breathlessly, the air whipping around him like it had a mind of his own, and overhead the dark clouds that’d risen with the sun seemed to be growing thicker, centred around where they were — in a way, he could liken Jongdae to the eye of the storm. He’d never seem him channel _his_ magic before but he was willing to bet that’s what was happening. Of course the other had used magic around him before but using magic was very different from showcasing his own powers, something that was usually rather varied based on the individual.

“Practice what you preach,” Baekhyun chuckled as he quickly snatched a blade from his belt and pegged it forward, watching as already bloodied metal sunk deep into the space between another man’s eyes; rather than having to worry about losing the knife or fetching it the knife pulled itself free and whirred back into his hand handle first, gleaming. He’d been apprehensive about letting Taeyong meddle with his blades but he couldn’t deny that allowing him to enchant their weapons definitely seemed like it’d paid off, especially for someone with a fighting style such as his own. 

“How many?”

“Thousands,” Jongdae managed as they ended up back to back again. Baekhyun thrust his blade forward and jerked before dragging up, gutting the man in front of him with practised ease and bringing a boot up to kick his dying body backwards. As soon as one retreated, another surged forward. It was never-ending. “They keep coming— shit, I don’t know where they’re coming from.”

It wasn’t good. Baekhyun could see just how many their own forces had already dispatched, but they’d already had casualties, and more importantly than that . . . there seemed to be no end to their enemy. 

“We need an advantage,” Jongdae hissed out as an arrow sliced his arm, just as the warlock seemed to have been focused on his magic, and Baekhyun instantly dealt with the archer before meeting his gaze. He knew that look. Jongdae had an idea, and Jongdae’s ideas, whilst extremely efficient, were usually rather dangerous and risky. Baekhyun pursed his lips for a moment, wondering what the hell this ingenious plan was going to be, and then he nodded. “How many do you think we need to take out to turn the tides?”

“At least a thousand,” Baekhyun theorised. It was a little worrying, the way that such an impossible number simply made the other male grin — it was a dangerous sort of the smile, the sort you saw before something bad happened, something perhaps just a little malicious. In these circumstances he welcomed it.

“Got it.” All he could do was observe as Jongdae rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, the wind raising around them and keeping foes at bay as a change seemed to start to overcome him. Visually, he was the same for the most part, but there was one startling difference which caught him off guard, and that was when Jongdae’s eyes seemed to cloud over, turning a luminous grey-white, expression shifting to something much darker; for the first time since Baekhyun had met him, he truly didn’t look human.

No wings sprouted from his back but that didn’t hinder the dark-haired male from rising up into the air with his arms spread to his sides, the wind roaring so loudly that it started to drown out the vicious sounds of the battle rising around them, deafening. If anything, he looked like some sort of _god_ , rising up into the sky as wind and clouds bent to his will — as pale, flickering energy started to crackle in his palms and around his arms. Any arrows aimed his way simply seemed to be whisked away by the torrent of the wind and thrown back at those who dared shoot.

It happed so suddenly, the way the wind seemed to all of a sudden die down and then, without much warning, the heavens seemed to start their assault. At first Baekhyun panicked, stumbling backwards and then jumping when more lightning struck behind him, the smell of burnt flesh and loud screams almost overwhelming; the ground _shook_ with each strike, the light alone enough to disorient him. It took a few brief moments that felt like a lifetime for him to realise that the lightning was only targeting their enemies and that not one of their men had been touched by the barrage in any way. _Oh_.

Without anyone running his way and trying to skewer him on a sword, Baekhyun allowed himself a moment to just _breathe_ , to wipe the blood from around his eyes, and it was like the moment that he could take a second to himself his legs wanted to crumble under his weight. Could they really do this? Wouldn’t it be better to ru—

No, _no_ , he wasn’t even going to consider it— the moment he even thought of it bile rose in his throat and he found himself ashamed of it, forcing the idea down and instead jogging off towards where he’d last seen anyone. It was Mark who he came across first. He was bloodied just like everyone else, and there was a cut on his cheek that seemed to be bleeding a lot even if it didn’t appear to be overly deep. Frankly, they both looked like shit, but it was such a relief to see anyone. “Are you—“

“Hyung!” The younger shouted, looking past him with a terrified expression. Baekhyun instantly turned on his heal, eyes widening as he focused just in time to see a burst of green light soar across the sky, hitting Jongdae before any of them could really react. His stomach sunk to the ground the moment he saw his friend go limp and start to fall from the sky like dead weight. Far off, he could hear screaming. Even as he sprinted and leapt over bodies he knew he’d be too late, that he could never reach him in time, that even if he could a fall from that height . . . 

When Jongdae was perhaps twenty feet from the ground, a large, dark figure swooped down from the cover of the clouds and caught his body, instantly veering off to the side.

“Taemin,” Baekhyun breathed, knees trembling as he almost collapsed down to the bloodied soil beneath his feet.

He didn’t have time before more men were spilling forward, weapons raised; all Baekhyun could do was let out a frustrated shout, plucking another blade from his belt and pegging it forward with all the might he could muster as the battle resumed.

—

Taeyong felt like he watched it in slow motion, the way that Jongdae was hit by a surge of energy that couldn’t have been from anyone other than Seungyoun, the way that he fell like a rag doll, plummeting towards the earth. He heard Yixing scream, his immaculate white robes coated in blood and dirt, his expression filled with pure terror as he tried to run forward. He watched as Taemin came to Jongdae’s rescue, wings flaring out as he grazed over everyone’s heads and veered their way, carrying the limp body that he’d caught back here, away from the frontlines. 

He knew this was his only chance, while Yixing was distracted.

Taeyong dropped the bag he’d been carrying and took off running as fast as he could, pulse jackhammering in his chest as his legs burned and took him over mud formed from wet earth and blood, over bodies, closer and closer through the throng of bodies until he could reach down and grab the blades strapped to his waist. They were far from mighty swords, more akin to the blades that Baekhyun carried in the fact they were light and evenly weighted with the handles moulded to his own palms. He’d never actually had to use them before.

Within a minute he made his first mistake, only realising his flank was unprotected when his magic flared and recognised a presence behind him, spurring his body into action — he twisted like a flurry in a snowstorm and moved more on instinct than anything as he thrust the right blade between the man’s ribs like he’d been taught and twisted.

It took a few seconds for him to realise what he’d done, and by that time the light was leaving the man’s eyes and he was dropping to the ground. Taeyong stood for a moment, hands trembling.

He’d never . . . never killed someone like that. 

In battle you didn’t have a moment to consider what you were doing, though — only a few seconds later there was another body coming his way and he had to shove all those emotions aside to defend himself, to keep working himself out into the battlefield, closer to where they all were, to where Jongin was. 

A brief look up at the sun had his stomach curling. He knew he didn’t have very long and he didn’t have time to waste; there was already a rounded sliver of darkness starting to creep it’s way in front of the sun, perhaps covering just a quarter. In any other circumstances it would be beautiful. Today all it did was make dread settle heavy in his core, desperation creeping into every motion as he sliced the throat of another man and swallowed thickly as warm liquid splattered over his own jaw and throat. He didn’t have time to dwell on the way he could feel the life leave those he killed, the way it fuelled his own energy and had power curling through his veins.

Somewhere in front of him, far enough off that he couldn’t make out what exactly was happening, flames erupted from the ground, roaring high into the sky before settling down into a steady inferno. Perhaps he couldn’t _see_ what was happening, but he could _feel_ the flare of magic that was so inherently Ten — that was where he instantly headed towards.

Taeyong had feared that he’d be an obvious target. After all, he was the one that Seungyoun really wanted, this was all just to teach him a lesson and break his will, draw him out into the open so that he’d submit to his will. Instead, it was easy for him to slip through the battle rather unnoticed, taking down any who came his way. It was . . . gods, he had no idea how everyone was still going after all this time. It was exhausting in a way he’d never really experienced before.

He knew that the best thing to do would be to hide and go off on his own to finish this and that if anyone saw him they’d try to stop him, but he could feel Ten wavering, could see the flickering in the flames, and he couldn’t just— he had to get to him. He heard it before he saw it, the yelling. Loud cries that were absolutely fierce in nature, something that was distinctly human yet oddly enough reminded him of a lion, the sort of noise that sent shivers cascading down your spine. 

Finally, through a gap in bodies, he saw them.

Lucas looked . . . ferocious was the only word for it. Everyone he’d seen was covered in blood and other fluids but Lucas was drenched to the bone, his armour glistening with fresh blood that ran off him in rivulets. The greatsword he’d only ever seen him train with was coated in blood and gristle as he swung it, cleaving another man— gods, cleaving him in half at the waist like he was nothing. Bodies littered the ground at his feet and more men kept running his way.

Behind him, tucked between Lucas and a wall of flames, was Ten. He was on the ground, face pale and one hand clutching his side that looked wet even through the dark material. His chin was coated, too, like he’d been coughing blood. Even in his state one of his hands was outstretched and hovering above the ground to keep those flames fuelled, protecting their rear whilst also lashing out to pick off enemy soldiers. 

He was going to kill himself like this.  


Taeyong ran forward before he could second guess himself, tucking the blades back into their sheaths despite all the blood and thrusting his hands out with a shout, watching as pale light shot forward and bodies were sent flying. It was enough to clear the way for just a few moments and that was all he’d needed to get to them. The pale-haired male ignored the shock on Lucas’s face as he surged past him and dropped down to his knees before Ten, covering his hand with his own and sending forth a rush of energy that had the flames rippling into a protective circle around them, roaring high enough to shield them from harm.

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” Ten croaked, but his words dissolved into coughing as more blood forced it’s way up, spraying over Taeyong’s chest and lap.

“Scold me later,” Taeyong breathed as he tried to ascertain his injuries and isolate the worst ones. Most of the cuts he could see were likely from Ten’s magic, but the wound on his side was large and the discarded, broken spear saturated in blood was likely the culprit. He’d die if he wasn’t tended to. All that energy that he’d gathered no matter the source bubbled to the surface as he batted away Ten’s hand away and covered the hole with his own — the warlock let out a pained shout as he did so. Taeyong pushed a large amount of that magic forward, hand glowing as muscle and sinew quickly knitted itself back together, the flow of blood stopping altogether.  
  
“Stop,” the other managed weakly, but Taeyong didn’t stop, not until he was healed, until he was replenished and could fight again.

Sweat was beading on Taeyong’s forehead as he pulled his hand back but the effect of such an attempt wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. “We’re losing,” Taeyong murmured more to himself than anything, bloodied hands curling into fists; he helped Ten to his feet when he reached out and kept a hand there to steady him until the other gently shrugged it off, staring at Lucas. Lucas looked so solemn, shoulders heaving and eyes holding exhaustion and resignation that pained him to see there, on him of all people.

“It’s time, Ten,” Lucas spoke up, voice hoarse as he stepped forward. Taeyong’s brows furrowed a little and he looked to Ten for answers but all he saw was equal resignation, like he’d been backed into a corner he’d been hoping he wouldn’t be. “Do it. Please.”

“I won’t let you die,” Ten gritted out. A sort of determination set into his features as he stepped forward to meet him and mirrored the other as Lucas dropped down to one knee, instantly reaching out to set a hand on the nape of his neck and drawing him closer. “You hear me? You’re going to come back to me,Wong Yukhei. You’re going to _live_. _Promise me_.”

“I promise,” the taller male rasped as he pressed their forehead’s together. 

“What’s going on?” Taeyong managed, stepping forward but not daring to reach out. Something was wrong. The way they stared into each other’s eyes and leant in to seal their lips together as Ten traced marks with his own blood over the base of Lucas’s neck was so out of place on the battlefield and he didn’t quite understand that anything was happening until power billowed out into the air between them, making him gasp and stumble.

This— this was different, something he’d never felt before. Something ancient and powerful beyond measure. Ten was quite literally thrown back a few feet and Lucas remained kneeling on the ground, head bowed and his whole body trembling. The pale-haired male instantly moved over to Ten to help him back up, noting the genuine fear and uncertainty in the older male’s gaze, a gaze which was locked on the man on the ground, like he was waiting.

For a few long moments, nothing happened.

Slowly, leisurely even, dark tendrils started to seep up out of the ground, a mist that seemed to flicker and curl like it was sentient as it gravitated towards Lucas; as if it didn’t look ominous enough already, Taeyong could feel that dark, staggering magic that fuelled it — it was malevolent, resentful energy, so pure in it’s evil that even Seungyoun could never compare to whatever this was. 

Taeyong took a step forward as it curled around Lucas’s fingers and hands and trailed up, caressing over his arms and body like a lover’s embrace. Lucas shivered and then fell deathly still.

“Lucas?” He called softly with no response. “Yukhei?”

Lucas’s head snapped up, but it . . . it wasn’t Lucas.

Those warm brown eyes he’d so fallen in love with were gone, replaced by a cloudy white free of any pupil or iris, and the veins around his eyes seemed to be raised, darker in colour than they should have been; his neck, too, and his wrists, all sporting dark, raised veins of a similar hue to the mist that curled around him. The expression on Lucas’s face wasn’t an affectionate smile by any means, in fact, the glint of white teeth looked far too menacing, canines sharper than they should’ve been. 

Lucas barely even looked at them as he rose from the ground and turned his sword over in his grip, almost like he was inspecting it for a moment before the tendrils moved to tangle themselves around his weapon, too.

“Ten,” Taeyong managed, voice shaky. “What . . .” Ten just grabbed his arm and pulled him back a few feet, his whole body tense like he was ready for a fight, that hand on his bicep trembling like he couldn’t even really bring himself to try to hide it. 

Lucas tilted his head back and _crowed_ , the noise far from human and certainly not friendly in any way — it was a terrifying noise, cross between some sort of howl and a cry, made to strike fear into all those that heard it. _It_ lifted it’s sword to point right at them, lips curling into an empty smirk, and then it turned away. In an instant it’d launched itself _through_ the flames and at the enemies waiting on the other side, snarling and carving the way through their enemies like a fish through water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /“You know.” It wasn’t a question, more of an accusation. “You know.” Ten repeated, voice sharper as he shoved at Taemin’s chest, a crippling panic overtaking him. When did it get like this? When did they start keeping things from each other? Lying? “What is going on—“
> 
> “Don’t ask me,” Taemin cut him off with an almost pleading tone, eyes desperate. “I can’t tell you, Ten, I just need you to trust us. To trust me.”/
> 
> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> [NOTICE: next chapter will be the last chapter of this installment!]


	33. Part 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When did everything fall apart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie, I'm actually getting a little bit emotional posting this, but I'll save my big spiel and thanks for when I post the epilogue (that I promise you will only have to wait like a day for, because I can't bear to leave you on much of a cliffhanger for too long).
> 
> Still, thank you so much for all your support. Love you guys x

“Ten, what did you do?” Taeyong managed, finally pulling free from his grip, and all Ten could do was fight back a choked noise; it took every inch of his being to tear his gaze away from where Lucas was . . . fighting truly wasn’t the word for it. It was more like a massacre, albeit a somewhat controlled one given that he wasn’t going after their own men.

“Later,” the dark-haired male insisted, sending those flames flaring out in a wide circle to clear the immediate area before wrapping his fingers around Taeyong’s wrist again. They didn’t have time to do this now. To talk. Besides, Lucas’s story certainly wasn’t his to tell, and even if they were to discuss it then it’d take a long, long time. “What the hell are you doing out here?” Ten couldn’t quite help the sharpness to his tone. 

“You can’t say you honestly expected me to stay out of this—“

“It’s not up to you!” Ten snapped back, tugging the other along even as he tried to struggle against his hold. “They’re after _you_. If Jongin sees you— gods, don’t you _think_ , Taeyong? You’ll get him killed!” That last phrase spilt from his lips like a hiss. Maybe it was harsh. Hell, maybe he was being a bit mean in the moment, but they, gods, they didn’t have the _time_ to worry about niceties right now, not when they were so obviously losing, slowly but surely being pushed back towards the city walls. “I’m taking you back.”

“No,” Taeyong shouted indignantly, squirming and shoving as he wrapped his arms around him, but it was too late; Ten drew his magic forth and let them melt down into the shadows.

It should’ve been easy — he’d done this a million times, more than he could ever truly count — but it _wasn’t_. He had no warning whatsoever before there was an incomprehensible surge of energy, something so potent it had him faltering, enough to send him into a tailspin as he lost control of his magic. It was incredibly dangerous, to falter when shadow travelling. If done wrong then you risked not only ending up in the wrong place but you also risked the possibility of being torn in different directions, or becoming lost in them altogether. 

When Ten broke free of the void his hands kept him from falling face-first into the bloodied slush beneath him, mud and melting ice and blood sloshing under his touch as he tried to push himself up a little. His arms were empty, and he was off to the side in a somewhat safe spot. That— god, that little _bastard_. Ten had never had someone _hijack his magic before_. If he wasn’t so utterly angry and worried he’d be impressed that his student was excelling so quickly, but how could he think about such a thing now? Why did Taeyong have to be so stubborn? He was going to get himself killed.

The warlock inhaled deeply and focused on that prickling at the nape of his neck, grasping hold of whatever he could reach and _pulling_ , reaching out as best he could for Taemin thought that bond that linked them all. Even with Taeyong’s healing he was bone tired and having trouble focusing. So much so that it took every ounce of his attention to just do this simple little task — enough that it left him completely open and vulnerable to attack.

By the time he felt the rush of air, it was too late; Ten’s eyes snapped open as he tried to redirect his magic, but that axe was already too close, had too much force behind it. It felt like the last second, just as he realised that he was going to die, when he heard a loud _whoosh_ from behind him, felt a monumental gust of wind accompanied by the rush of feathers as the soldier in front of him was hit by a projectile— no, by Taemin. There was a loud, wet, ripping noise and he watched as blood sprayed through the air, chilling gurgles following and slowly tapering out. Taemin turned to face him with pupils that were barely visible slits and dark wings caked in a thick sheen of blood. In his left hand, there was a chunk of indistinguishable flesh which was quickly disposed of.

“Taemin,” Ten choked out, stumbling forward and almost falling before the other male caught him in his arms. “Taemin, I— Taeyong’s planning something, he—“ he couldn’t even get his words out. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt like he could feel it in his head, mind moving at a pace that was too much for him to process and put into words, a tightness in his throat and lungs that was almost painful, and Taemin was just looking at him like he . . .

“You know.” It wasn’t a question, more of an accusation. “ _You know_.” Ten repeated, voice sharper as he shoved at Taemin’s chest, a crippling panic overtaking him. When did it get like this? When did they start keeping things from each other? Lying? “What is going on—“

“Don’t ask me,” Taemin cut him off with an almost pleading tone, eyes desperate. “I can’t tell you, Ten, I just need you to trust us. To trust _me_.”

-

Mark could remember it so clearly, the first time he’d ever gotten into a proper fight. He’d been barely seventeen and still a baby faced but he’d always had a strong sense of righteousness, something that he’d learn from Jongin over the years, and when he’d seen a group of men hassling one of the waitresses at the tavern they’d crashed at for the night he hadn’t been able to stop himself from interfering. He’d known in the moment that it was fucking stupid, but he’d still done it. Maybe he hadn’t thrown the first punch, but he’d thrown plenty after.

He’d been completely out of his depth back then, and it was Jongin who’d come to his rescue.

This time, he wasn’t helpless.

Mark didn’t even bother loading up his bow this time, just grabbed an arrow as he launched himself up and buried it into another man’s skull, pushing off him as the body fell and landing with a wince. He had a nasty gash on his leg that would need some attention if they made it through this, and it was certainly hindering his mobility a little bit even if he’d been trying to ignore it. That was the last of his worries in the moment, though — all he could focus on was _Jongin_ , on sticking close to the other man’s side and trying to protect him.

To say that everything had gone to shit was an understatement. He didn’t know where Jungwoo had run off to and Baekhyun was somewhere to his left but he’d lost sight of Yukhei and Ten completely even if he could hear screams that were probably their doing. He had no idea where Taemin was even if he’d seen flashes of him here and there, striking down from the heavens like some sort of vengeful _god_. 

All he had was Jongin, a few feet away and grunting with every movement as he embedded his spear through the chest of another soldier, one boot rising to kick at the other and send his body flying back before he whirled around to take down another. They were grossly outnumbered, but Jongin? He never stopped fighting, never even let a moment of weakness slip through that fierce facade as he piled up bodies around him like fallen leaves.

That was the man Mark had loved since before he even knew what love was; the man who he’d sworn himself to in every conceivable way, the one he’d follow to his death.

Their eyes met over the mass of bodies between them and despite the circumstances, Jongin managed a weak, half-smile that hurt more than it reassured him. All Mark could do was return it, eyes burning as he worked his way over, having to thrust his bow up to block a blow from someone’s blade. It was strong, the core metal, but such a blow splintered wood and rendered it rather useless. The dark-haired male cursed and threw it to the side, smashing his elbow into the other’s nose with a satisfying crunch before pulling his sword from it’s sheath at his side and driving it into their abdomen. Push, twist, pull — just like Jongin had taught him.

“Hyung,” he managed as they ended up back to back, his legs trembling and his throat growing tight as he focused on that familiar heat behind him.“Hyung, I—“

“I know, Mark,” Jongin answered in a tone that was barely audible above the roar of the battle. Even now, more warriors poured into the field like they were never-ending. As another wave approached with their weapons raised high, he braced himself, ready to fight.

Except they never came.

Mark would say that he’d seen his fair share of things over the years, his fair share of _odd_ things, but he’d never seen anything like this — never seen a whole battlefield frozen in time, bodies petrified in movements that shouldn’t have held, blood solid in the air. Everyone except . . . except them. 

Wings rustled behind him and then there was another, large figure by his side, Taemin crowding close like he was trying to shield them and Ten looking utterly drained yet still standing — he could see Baekhyun working his way through frozen bodies to find them, and in the distance he could hear a roar that was so distinctly Lucas even though it sounded like that of a feral animal.

“What’s going on?” Jongin asked from beside him, using his spear like it was a walking cane meant to keep him upright, hair matted with sweat and blood that was dripping down onto his face. 

“Fae,” was all Taemin whispered, looking around before his eyes seemed to move upwards; when Mark followed his gaze he quickly realised what he was staring at: the moon had nearly completely blocked out the sun, just a small sliver of light shining through on one side, the world around them far darker than it should have been. Oh. Instinctively he shuffled closer to Jongin, almost like trying to make a barrier between him and the universe.

From behind a mass of bodies, another stepped forth — tall, regal, with hair spun like golden yarn, dressed in white robes. Even for someone so oblivious to magic as Mark was, he could feel it, that oppressive energy. This man had to be a Fae. What caught their attention more than anything was the body he dragged forth and tossed to the ground at his feet, his expression filled with cruel satisfaction as Taeyong grunted and tried to pull himself up from the filth beneath him. Instinctively, Mark took a step forward, but someone’s hand wrapped around his forearm to stop him. 

There were tears smeared across the other’s face, cutting through the mix of blood and dirt, his white hair stained with it and clothes soaked through — even so, he somehow managed to look like more than just a scared little boy, a fire and desperation in his gaze that made Mark’s chest constrict. Gods.

“It’s cute that he thought that pleading with me would save your worthless lives,” the Fae hummed. This had to be Seungyoun, then, the man that Taeyong had mentioned with such obvious disdain and repulsion. _He_ was the one who was responsible for what’d happened to their people, for what’d happened to Jongin. It was hard not to take it personally when the guy had tried to kill him off, too. 

“Please,” Taeyong choked out as he reached out to grasp at immaculate robes, slowly getting up onto his feet. Seungyoun’s jaw seemed to tick in irritation, but he didn’t push him back down. “I’ll do anything— I’ll do what you want me to, the council will be yours, Seungyoun. You’ll have it all.” Mark had no idea what Taeyong was talking about yet his words seemed to have some sort of effect on the other Fae, though perhaps not the one he’d been vying for. The man laughed, the noise void of anything reassuring as he turned Taeyong around face them, whispering words in his ear that he couldn’t discern from this distance. 

“Hyung?” He heard Ten call softly, though he wasn’t sure which one he was referring to, only that he sounded scared. Mark supposed that the feeling was rather mutual.

Mark didn’t know how they could possibly get out of this situation, not alive. They were drastically outnumbered on all sides and the man they were facing was stronger than any of them, even Taemin who he’d thought was paramount to everyone — even Taeyong, who was Fae, due to the remnants of that seal that he’d never truly be able to break. Above them, the sun was almost completely eclipsed.

It was jarring, to see the way that Taeyong’s features shifted so suddenly. He was faced away from Seungyoun and staring at them but his expression was no longer something frantic; it was like watching a mask melt away to reveal the collected visage underneath, eyes burning with a fierce, determined satisfaction that had Mark’s breath hitching — it wasn’t a look he ever would’ve expected from someone like Taeyong. For a moment the man he was staring at bore no resemblance to the one he knew and loved.

Taeyong mouthed something that he couldn’t quite make out.

Mark was so focused on his face and that impending sense of doom hanging over their heads that he didn’t really notice the way that one of Taeyong’s hands shifted nor the way that something reflective slid from under his sleeve to rest in his hand — a blade. All he saw was the way Taeyong didn’t even turn as his fingers curled around the metal and formed a fist before jamming it backwards; blood instantly bloomed across the front of white robes and he watched that indifference on Taeyong’s features— no, the _satisfaction_ — as Seungyoun stumbled back and released him to clutch at the wound.

They started forward instantly.

Taeyong didn’t run back to them for safety. No, the young Fae instead turned and advanced on the careening figure with that blade twirling around on his fingers before he thrust it forward again as his free hand grabbed Seungyoun’s shoulder to keep him from pulling back. Right into his heart

“Look at me,” he heard Taeyong manage in a strained voice that was dripping with hatred. “ _Look at me_. I told you I’d be the last thing you’d see, didn’t I?” He seemed to drive the blade deeper if the way Seungyoun garbled and jolted was anything to go by, but from where they were he could see the shadows that were creeping up out of the ground to wrap around the figure, almost like trying to drag him down. There was a wet, crunching noise that filled the air and then that body fell to the ground just like all the others before him.

It all happened so quickly that he wasn’t sure that anyone could’ve reacted fast enough.

First, the world grew even darker.

_/when the sun no longer shines_

_and the grass is watered with blood,/_

Then, as the man that was responsible for all of this was devoured by a mass of fierce shadows crawling like maggots across his prone for, the world around them erupted into action again; whatever he’d done to freeze time had come undone with his death. The sounds of battle filled the air around them once more like a deafening roar, and all of a sudden Mark realised that nothing had changed. Cutting the head off the snake hadn’t worked, not really. Perhaps no more would descend upon them but that did nothing to remove the thousands of soldiers they were already being swarmed by. Mark gripped his sword tighter as a wave approached them, watched as Ten sent flames their way and Taemin propelled himself back into the air.

Beside him, Jongin reached out to grab Taeyong’s arm and drag him closer, to protect him, but just as the other looked at them he noticed the way his eyes widened. It was only perhaps a second, but Mark felt like he saw it all — the shock, the fear, then the realisation; the acceptance. Taeyong grabbed onto Jongin and with all might whirled them both around so that they’d switched places, just a breath before a thick _thud_ filled the air and he watched Taeyong jolt.

Mark didn’t realise what had happened until he saw the shaft sticking out of Taeyong’s back and the way Jongin winced as something pricked his chest a little. It was as though all the air was ripped from his lungs as Jongin pulled back just enough to look down and see the head of the spear that had wedged itself into his armour — only perhaps a centimetre deep into his skin, but the fact it’d breached his armour in the first place was shocking. More shocking was the way that it was protruding from Taeyong’s chest, coated in his blood.

“I— Yong,” Jongin cried as he seemed to realise what had happened. He’d seen the spear coming, had switched their places. If that spear had hit Jongin it would’ve skewered him right through, undeniably a fatal blow. “Taeyong— _no!_ Gods, why would you— no, come on, you’re not allowed to do this.” The king carefully moved to lower them down to the ground and watched as Taeyong choked on his blood, but before he could the white-haired male managed to shake his head, shoved Jongin away with a burst of energy that sent him stumbling back a few feet. Mark tried to reach out but received a similar treatment.

It was worse than anything he’d ever seen. Worse than the time Jongin had gotten that cut on his thigh that’d hit bone and had left behind a nasty scar, worse than the time he’d dislocated his shoulder and seen everything popping up _wrong_. All Mark could do was sob and try to reach out as he watched Taeyong falter on his feet a little, the spear still embedded in his chest. He looked scared, but _resigned_ , like somehow he’d known this was coming.

Bloodstained lips smiled at him. He watched as those kind eyes he’d loved for so long fluttered shut and Taeyong’s legs barely kept him standing, head tipping back as small droplets of water started to fall from the sky above them. He started to . . . the wind picked up around him and a steady thrum filled the air in a way Mark had come to associate with magic, and then light erupted around them. It wasn’t light, not in the sense he’d always thought of it as the few times he’d seen it, but rather a pure sort of fire — pure in the sense it was white, whiter than anything he’d ever seen, the flames roaring high into the sky and spreading out as far as the eye could see. Mark braced himself and prepared himself for the burn but instead all that lapped over his skin was a pleasant warmth, like a lover’s touch. It was reassuring in a way he could never hope to explain.

“ _Taeyong!_ ” He heard Taemin scream from somewhere in the distance in a tone that sounded more like a wounded animal than a human, a desperate cry that was utterly agonised.

_/when the damned weep_

_and the heavens flood,/_

Mark fell to his knees with a pained gasp of air, clutching desperately at his chest as he felt something _snap_.

_/a prince will draw his last breath./_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:
> 
> /This was never how Taeyong had wanted things to be./
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> You can find me on twitter @peachxi1 (snippets, updates, character visuals + bonus)


	34. Epilogue: Maps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief glimpse into the inner workings of Taeyong's mind + alternate takes on scenes from past chapters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might get a little long, so feel free to skip straight to the story:
> 
> I can't even begin to express just how much all of your love and support has meant to me. When I started writing this, it was more for myself than anything - a creative outlet to fill my end of year holiday. 2 months and days, 133,878 words, 6000+ hit, 300+ kudos later, it's a little emotional for me to say that the first instalment of this (now) series, A Little Wicked, is complete!  
> Without everyone who's supported me along the way and left all those kind comments and feedback, this fic honestly never would've become what it is, and I can't thank you enough for it, because it's such a personal achievement for me to finish something for once in my life.  
> I've fallen even more in love with the characters and this universe along the way, and I really do hope that you're all excited to read the sequel, which I promise will be up within the next week or two once I finish uni assessments.  
> Again, thank you so much for making the impossible possible for me ♡
> 
> (just an fyi in case it isn't clear, all the parts in italics and /these/ are 'flashbacks' or past scenes)

_‘I am yours._

_I am yours as the stars_

_belong to the sky_

_and I am yours as_

_the rivers belong_

_to the sea._

_I am yours as your tears_

_belong to your eyes_

_and I am yours_

_as your lungs belong_

_to the pattern in which_

_you breathe.’_

— Christopher Poindexter

This was never how Taeyong had wanted things to be.

_/“If we make another deal, I’ll tell you.” Taeyong wiped away the tears staining his own cheeks and shifted his gaze back down towards Jongin’s unconscious figure. He was careful in the way he let his magic trickle forth to brush over the other’s skin, ever so slowly evaporating the moisture that clung to his form, hopefully warming him up as much as he could in an effort to combat the chill of the night air._

_“A deal?” Taemin repeated in a tone that did nothing to hide his reluctance. Taeyong_ knew _that Taemin wasn’t fond of deals, at least not with those that he cared for, but he— gods, he didn’t really have much of a choice right now. He waited as the other considered it for a few moments before he was given a small nod in assent._

_“I’ll tell you, and you’re not allowed to breathe a word if it to anyone, not until after,” the younger male finally proposed. “You have to swear that no matter what, your focus will be on protecting Jongin and the others.”_

_“Taeyong—“_

_“Do we have a deal?” He reaffirmed, despising himself for the fact that he was the sole reason for the faint distress he could see creeping into his lover’s features. There was a heavy silence in the air for a few moments before he watched Taemin nod rather reluctantly and lean in closer, ever so tenderly grazing their lips together._

_“Yes.”/_

Taeyong had never been a good liar, not really — his mother had always said he was an open book and _afterwards,_ he’d still struggled to be dishonest even when it was his own life on the line; that being said, desperation had a way of changing things. Beatings from castle guards were incomparable to the consequences of what could unfold if he _didn’t_ lie.

It was never a matter of trust, it was . . . he was protecting them. They’d never let him do what he needed to if they knew the truth.

_/“My birth father was a very important man,” Taeyong started quietly as they leant back in the bed, Taemin holding him close and his own fingers carding leisurely through Jongin’s hair as he slumbered. “My birth mother was a no one, really, back there — a maid. His wife was . . . infertile, but he wanted successors regardless so he slept with countless women, trying to produce a male heir that would be worthy of the title._

_“When my mother realised the reason he’d seduced her she fled and gave birth to me in seclusion; she’s the one who sealed my magic and gave me to my parents to be raised as a human, far away from that life. She died for it, to give me a chance.”_

_“An heir . . . an important man, hmm?”_

_“Depends whether you class a king as important,” Taeyong mumbled, barely even audible, but he knew that the warlock could hear him. Taemin instantly froze a little, probably rather surprised by the open admission. He couldn’t really bring himself to wait in silence for the warlock to gather his thoughts._

_“I hate myself for falling for all Seungyoun’s tricks. I thought I was one step ahead of him, that I was the one using him to get what I wanted, but he knew from the start exactly what I was going to do,” he breathed, “and now it’s everyone else who is paying the price. I should’ve just gone with him that first night—“_

_“Why do they want you now?” Taemin finally interjected, covering one of his hands with his own and squeezing, the motion accompanied by a gentle press of lips to the back of his neck. “You said there were others.” Yeah, others. Other half-siblings that Taeyong had never met, that he probably never would — it made him think back to Kyungmi, his little sister, the girl who’d been savagely ripped away from him all those years ago._

_“Trust me, I wasn’t his first choice,” Taeyong snorted softly. “Do you really think they want me? Someone who was raised by humans? I’m weak, by their standards. Their king passed when I was young and for the last decade Seungyoun has been working his way down the list, tracking down every single one of his bastards and trying to snatch them up before anyone else can — every faction wanted one of us so that they could lead. He certainly wasn’t against killing those who wouldn’t join him.”_

_“He hasn’t killed you, yet.”_

_“I’m the last one. As I said, I was the last one he wanted to be his trump card, but as far as they know there’s none of us left, now. They’ve all been killed or killed each other off to try and claim the crown — all that blood for nothing — and now he wants . . .”_

_“He wants to take you back there and use you,” Taemin finished. Taeyong just nodded. Seungyoun didn’t care about taking him home and reuniting him with his people or any semblance of family — he didn’t care about_ kinship _. All he cared about was power, namely the power he’d gain if he controlled the one who sat on the throne._

_“You know, I dreamed of it when I was a kid,” he murmured. “Not of this, but of . . . being important, someday. I imagined that it was me up in this castle, that one day people would look at me like I was something worthwhile, someone worthy of their respect and adoration.”_

_“You’re already worthy, Taeyong.”_

_“But I’m no king.”_

_“You could be anything you desired,” Taemin whispered softly, one hand coming up to tuck some of his hair back so that he could trail a kiss over the shell of his ear. “Say the word and it’s yours. I would tear the very stars from the sky if that’s what would please you, Taeyong; it would not be the first time I’ve helped a king ascend.”_

_“I already have everything I could ever want.”/_

His plan had been simple from the start — not in execution but in theory. He’d find Seungyoun, and he’d deal with him, no matter what form that took. All of this that had happened, no, everything that had happened up until this point, it was a culmination of a lot of things which all lead back to _him_. If he killed Seungyoun, they didn’t have to worry. If Seungyoun killed him then he had no reason to torment those he loved. In the middle of that, there had been the fear of the unknown and an alternate possibility of having to go with the other male before things could come to a head in order to keep everyone safe, but he’d had a feeling that might not have been a possibility anymore.

Taeyong had felt like if he went with the first option, perhaps he’d have an (albeit rather small) advantage. Seungyoun based one’s worth off blood and power and it wasn’t hard to tell that magically he wasn’t very strong; he wasn’t overly powerful physically, either, but he was a healthy weight with soft muscle, and beyond that, he’d been learning. Baekhyun had said he was _good_ with a blade, and coming from someone as skilled as the elder that was certainly high praise, praise that he’d worked hard for with hours of sweat and tears, maybe a little blood. 

Seungyoun would undoubtedly underestimate him. That was something that Taeyong had been counting on.

Someone was going to die, and if it had to come down to those he loved or himself, then Taeyong wasn’t going to make the same mistake a second time. Seungyoun had tricked him into removing someone who could’ve tipped the cards, someone he’d . . . back then, he’d thought it was a show of faith that the man had told him how to fix Jongin, but in that half an hour between him pulling his lover from the river and Taemin arriving he’d realised it’d been far from that. It had never been to help. It’d been to make a statement, as if to say _look, look at what I can do — you never even realised that I tricked you into killing someone you care for. Imagine what else I could do if you don’t listen_.

Taeyong had been foolish and naive, and he ‘d refused to let himself fall down that road again, not when so much hung in the balance

Even so, the possibility of death had been frightening.

_/“If one of us dies, what happens?” Taeyong hadn’t let himself glance up as he heard Jongin ask the question that had already been swirling inside the recesses of his mind, but he still held his breath and listened. Truly, it was hard to do so when it felt like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest, thumping so loud that he felt like it had to be audible in the silence. If it was, no one reacted._

_He wanted nothing more than to have this, this_ connection _to Taemin and the others, but if he didn’t survive what was to come . . . no, he wouldn’t be selfish. He’d already subjected them to so much pain._

_“Nothing,” Taemin promised. “It just fades, on that end.” Taeyong tried to let out the breath he’d had trapped slowly so that it wouldn’t be too obvious, a wave of relief washing over him like gentle waves. Nothing._

_“I want to,” Taeyong spoke up softly, his lips curling into a fond smile as he reached over to cover one of Taemin’s hands with his own./_

The first step had been difficult, and it never really got _easy_ , but each step that’d followed as he’d forced himself through the chaos of the ensuing battle had become marginally easier; he didn’t want to say that it became less difficult after the first body fell at his feet, nor the second, but Taeyong supposed in a way that he’d grown more and more desensitised to the brutality with each moment that passed. He hadn’t had a chance to process the horror so he’d merely shoved it aside and focused on his goal.

After his encounter with Ten and . . . after seeing what had become of Lucas, he’d struggled; he hadn’t known what to do. Everything in him had screamed to stay and fight by their side lest something terrible happen yet he’d known that if he did that none of them would likely make it out of that place alive. That was what had pushed him to desperation. Taeyong hadn’t really been sure how he’d managed to hijack Ten’s travel, but he had — he’d pushed him out somewhere safe and let the magic curl around his body, familiar and warm, taking him to where he needed to be.

He’d never been more scared.

_/“Please,” Taeyong sobbed from where he was kneeling at the other’s feet, clutching at pristine robes. There was blood smeared all over his own clothes, caked to him like a second skin, soaking into every pore and making him feel so . . . gods, he felt so_ dirty _, but that was the least of his worries right now. “I want to come back, please? I— I know I made the wrong decision, I know I broke the deal but I want it, I want the crown.”_

_“It’s too late for that, Taeyong. Do you think I don’t know what you’re playing at?”_

_“I’m not—“_

_“So you don’t want me to spare your little friends?”_

_“I— please, Seungyoun. Anything, just . . . leave them be. You have me either way.”_

_“Exactly.”_

_Taeyong couldn’t help it, a small cry leaving him as he surged forward and tried to push forward as much energy as he could possibly muster; even as he moved he_ knew _that it would never be enough to do any real damage, but that wasn’t the point. He_ needed _to look helpless, like he couldn’t be a threat even if he wanted to be. Sure enough, Seungyoun deflected it with ease, looking smugger than anything that he’d actually tried._

_“Tsk tsk. I thought you’d know better than that, Taeyong.”_

_In a way, it was humiliating to be dragged out there in front of the men he loved, shoved to the ground like he was nothing, no one — no matter what Seungyoun spouted about his superior blood, Taeyong knew that the other still saw him as dirt. Always would. Even so, he pleaded again and again and again, heart pounding in his chest as he was drawn up to stand and turned to face them._

_Taeyong took his time, drinking in every detail of the other’s features until he was sure he had them all burned into his vision. Gods, this wasn’t going to work, was it? What if he messed up? He only had one chance, and if he blew it that was it, game over._

_“That’s right, look at them. I’ll make sure you get to watch each and every one of them fall, Taeyong, just like . . . what was his name? Maybe I’ll start with the demon, pluck his wings off like a fly — or maybe your human king, since he means so much to you? You won’t be able to save him this time, and you’ve already eradicated his first line of defence for me.” He couldn’t help the way his facade melted away, but then again he supposed it didn’t matter anymore, not at this point._

_He’d failed Kai, and he . . . he wouldn’t fail the others._

_‘I love you,’ he mouthed to the others, and then he looked past them to Taemin, hoping he understood. He could see just how much the elder was struggling not to run to his rescue but the bargain they’d struck inherently meant he couldn’t. His priority had to be the others._

_It was now or never._

_Taeyong shifted his thumb so that the blade he’d had stashed in his sleeve dropped down to a position which meant he could grasp the handle. It was small, the perfect size to fit into his palm, something easy to conceal and something that he’d found for himself in the armoury. The white-haired male sucked in a deep breath and allowed his chest to expand with the motion, channelling all that pain and rage and desperation before he moved. First, he slammed his hand backwards, roughly aiming for his chest, hopefully his heart, but he knew he couldn’t afford to rely on hope; the moment Seungyoun stumbled he whirled around to jam the blade in again, this time dead centre where his heart should rest._

_Full Fae were not easy to kill. He’d done his fair share of research on the few books he’d been able to find and it was all rather obscure. Some said that it was a matter of fatal injuries, others said it_ had _to be silver. A silver blade to the heart was what Taeyong had concluded, just to be sure, as well as . . . Taeyong wasn’t sure where it came from, the energy that he harnessed as that blade burrowed deeper and Seungyoun stared at him in shock, but it wasn’t just his own. Either way, it did the job._

_“Look at me,” Taeyong managed, his voice strained. “Look at me. I told you I’d be the last thing you’d see, didn’t I?” It felt good, to see the fear in the other’s eyes as the light drained from them./_

Taeyong had thought that was it. The relief that’d crashed over him had almost been enough to buckle his knees and make him sob, but that relief was certainly rather short-lived; Seungyoun’s death, it seemed, was inconsequential to their survival that day.

_/Taeyong had feared that, when it came down to it, he’d chicken out — that he wouldn’t be able to do it. That in the end, he’d be too selfish to do what needed to be done._

_It was easier than he’d expected._

_The moment he saw that spear flying through the air, he knew it was too late and that he’d done nothing to ruin the prophecy that’d been hanging over their heads from the start; Jongin was still fated to die. Taeyong couldn’t let that happen. It was oddly peaceful. “Jongin,” he gasped out as he spun them around, the adrenaline so potent that at first, all he felt was a heavy thud that had him stumbling, relying on the other male to keep him upright._

_“It’s okay,” was all he reassured as realisation flickered across the other’s features. Something bubbled up in his chest and he coughed, blood spraying out as the pain finally hit him, more intense than anything he’d ever felt, something so incredibly agonising that it had black dots dancing across his vision. He still somehow managed to wrench himself away._

_Maybe silver to the heart_ had _been unnecessary, to kill someone like him._

_Taeyong was dying, and he could feel it, and he wasn’t as terrified as he should have been, because for once he was going to be able to do something useful, to make sure that they were safe. It hurt, but he was already in so much pain that summoning up every drop of magic running through his veins seemed inconsequential in comparison — he didn’t_ want _to die, but he’d already made that choice. Him for Jongin. All he could hope was that they’d be able to forgive his choice and move on, but also that it was enough for him to die in his stead. A prince, if he could even be considered that._

_His world erupted into white flames, and then everything went black./_

-

Taeyong’s eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he felt was the _pain_. It was bright, far too bright, so bright that it felt like it was searing his eyes. He squinted and tried to cover them with the back of his arm, wincing, but as he sucked in air he realised everything felt so . . . so much more. It was like everything was dialled up to eleven; it was so overwhelming that he felt like he couldn’t even focus on anything, yet slowly his eyes did start to clear a little bit.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

The white-haired male blinked a little to clear his vision and stared up in confusion at the man that was staring down at him with a mess of dark, shoulder-length hair and a grand, heart-shaped smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I don't have a beta, so apologies for any mistakes!
> 
> until next time, friends♡
> 
> (you can follow me @peachxi1 on twitter to keep up to date with plans for the sequel + sneak peeks, or alternatively if you subscribe to the series you'll get a notification when it's posted!)


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